Attic Crawl
by BarracudaHeart
Summary: Martha had written memoirs and taken photographs years before Lars was born, starting back when she was even younger than he was now. It's only now that they've been rediscovered...by none other than her son. Connected oneshots/drabbles. Content warning for each chapter inside.
1. Me and Laramie

**This is a short series of mine I've been working on for a bit, and I'm hoping to get finished (writing at least, publishing is another timeline) before I'm off to school.**

 **This story centers around Lars' mother, Martha, and her life before Lars. Ships include: Martha/Vidalia and Martha with Lars' dad, Dante.**

 **Warnings will be posted for each individual chapter, as each chapter has a different content, and might be a little triggering to some.**

 **Chapter warning: Contains alcohol and teen drinking, and references to drugs and smoking. Basic hippie stuff.**

 **Hope you enjoy this series!**

* * *

"How hard is it to lose a magazine you JUST bought?", Lars muttered to himself as he stormed around the attic. It made for a great private living space, but as for keeping things in sight, it was the pits. He was pretty sure a raccoon lived in here too. Maybe it was kleptomaniacal and stowing all his possessions.

After rooting around under his bed a third time, Lars stood up, giving a growl of frustration, swore, and kicked a stack of boxes he'd not bothered to push out of the way once he'd moved in. As they suddenly swayed with impending catastrophe, Lars regretted his action and was left to watch the boxes, jam packed with his parents' things topple to the floor.

Swearing again, Lars began to hastily cram the fallen items back in the box, clicking his tongue as he saw old photos of himself and his parents, remembering how dorky he was. There were some old records, a few pieces of clothing, tape cassettes, something that smelled like whatever Lars could buy off the street corner for twenty dollars, and a large bundled stack of photos and a book.

Lars saw the first photo on top and raised an eyebrow. A young girl, probably no more than a young teenager, was posed on the arm of a chair, grinning confidently, wearing an oversized hand me down jacket and jeans with holes in the knee. A well dressed, thin young man sat in the chair, smiling politely at the camera.

It took Lars a moment to recognize the girl in the picture. It certainly took even longer to believe it, but the red hair gave it away.

 _...Mom?_

* * *

 _Martie Dubois saw no real reward to sticking to the rules at home. Bedtime was 9? She'd stretch it to 10:30. No feet on the sofa? She'd place a pillow on the couch cushions before resting her ankles on them._

 _'Young lady you need a haircut.'_ _She spat and kicked until her father relented and let her hair grow near her hips and her bangs fringed over her eyes._

 _Her mother, a nurse's aid, would hem and haw over how smoking cigarettes was a filthy habit, that no good respectable person should ever do it. Martie got her first pack smuggled to her before seventh grade. She didn't really smoke that regularly though, only when she was alone and bored._

 _She liked wearing things at inopportune times. Jeans during church, long skirts while gardening. Nobody would question her logic, aside from weird looks._

 _She's a wild child, that Martie, neighbors would chuckle, and while her parents might have had some embarrassment, she took it as a compliment._

 _And she almost always got away with it, for being the youngest child in her family._

* * *

Lars cracked a small smirk looking at the photo in his hand, "Sheesh ma. You were kind of a little weirdo, weren't ya?", he spoke under his breath, not expecting anyone to answer back. Both his parents were still at work, his dad at his dumb office job, and his mom at the fabric shop she'd opened some years ago.

Looking at the collection of polaroids in his lap, the journal on his knee, Lars' brow furrowed, wondering why he never saw any of this stuff earlier. Taking another look at the photo of his mom, he took attention to the young man in the photo, noticing his features, the tall thin frame with hair almost redder than his mother's.

Flipping the polaroid over, Lars blinked in confusion as he saw the writing on the back.

 _"Me and Laramie. Best Big Brother Ever!"_

* * *

 _Nobody could really direct Martie anywhere or anyhow. Her parents sure could have tried, but it wouldn't have done a thing. Martie listened to nobody._

 _Nobody except for her brother._

 _He'd been six when his family welcomed his little sister, and the bond was almost instantaneous. He'd innocently try to share his plastic soldiers and knights with her to play, he'd direct her to places to crawl, and when she was able to start crawling briskly, he was already pulling her by the arms, trying to help her walk._

 _She eventually was able to wait at the bus stop for him with her mother when he came home from school, and was quick to rush over to him, gaily cheering his name, and hugging him as much as her little body allowed. He didn't even mind it if he was in front of his friends. Nobody had as great of a three year old sister as he did._

 _He'd sneak oatmeal sandwich cookies from the cupboard to share with her in front of the TV. She couldn't understand his space and cowboy shows until he explained them to her. And then she was absolutely marveled by them. Her first Halloween where she could go to the door by herself, she'd insisted on being Wonder Woman, so she could match her brother's Superman._

 _On her first day of actual school, she'd tripped and fallen into a puddle getting off the bus, and he had carried her to his own middle school a quarter mile away so then she wouldn't have been seen crying and dirty in front of her new classmates. She'd spent the whole day there, amongst all the 11 and 12 year olds, and the two got in enormous trouble, but Martie had been so cute, she got off the hook faster than the blink of an eye._

 _Laramie was okay with that. It's what big brothers did._

 _And he was glad that Martie thought he was the best big brother in the world._

* * *

Lars bit his lip, rubbing his thumb over the photo, right over where 'Laramie's' face was, smiling cheerfully at the camera.

So _there's_ where that stupid name came from. Weird.

He did have to wonder though. Why didn't he ever know he had an uncle? Especially one with his namesake?

Deciding he needed more context, he cracked open the little diary in hope for answers. Already seeing the namesake listed on the first page, Lars began to read.

 _"I went to my first actual party today. It ended pretty bad, but Laramie made it better..."_

* * *

 _"How does this look?", Martie stepped out of her room, stretching her arms wide to show off her outfit that she'd picked herself, decided on a beaded cardigan and jeans._

 _"Your hair!", her brother laughed, "It's too neat! What's with the flowers?"_

 _"It's the thing nowadays!", she insisted, and taking the flowers out and holding them between her teeth for a moment, she combed her fingers through her hair again, then held onto her adornments, "Better?"_

 _"Almost," he grinned wickedly, and suddenly scrubbed his own hands into her hair playfully, and she shrieked with a giggle, telling him to stop before it got too tangled._

 _"There!", he finished, showing her to the mirror, "Now you look like a wild flower bush!"_

 _"Good!", she punctuated, and slipped on her shoes, "Don't wait up for me!", she teased._

 _"Don't worry, once you get home, I'll have cleaned out your whole room and filled it with porn mags," he teased, waving her off._

 _Martie leaped onto her bike, speeding down the street eagerly. Checking the address on her hand again, she navigated down the streets, turning corners until she finally reached the house that was hosting the party._

 _She'd taken care not to bring anything up about it to her parents, knowing they'd blow a gasket if they knew no parents were going to be there. But that's just how she wanted her first real party to be._

 _Parking her bike out front, she went inside, and was led to the basement by a classmate. Everything was loud and hazy, just as she expected, and just as she hoped. Rock music blasted over speakers, and it smelled like someone had already busted out the weed._

 _"Your parents are going to be out of the house all weekend, right?", she'd asked the host girl, wanting to make certain there was no chance some party pooper adult would rat her out._

 _An 'I think so' was enough to suffice, and Martie was quick to hop in the smoking circle, and light up._

 _After an hour, two joints later, Martie was sufficiently relaxed, and eager to join in on every and any party activity there was offered._

 _So long as she could keep her clothes on._

 _It was maybe after two hours of excited dancing and wailing along to the music that someone had busted out a whole four cases of beer._

 _"Who wants to give it a try?", the host offered, holding out the first can. A boy grabbed it, and popped the tab, quickly sipping at the foam that burst out._

 _Martie's fingers twitched in anticipation, and she stepped forward to take up the offer of the second can. She opened the can, expecting it to be just like a soda. Grinning, she took a huge gulp._

 _It took everything not to spit it up, it tasted awful. But she kept it down, and gave a small giggle. So this was what adulthood was like! She took another swallow in daring, in hope to get herself used to the taste._

 _Only a few other people took cans, some not interested in it, and another boy muttering that certain brand tasted like piss._

 _Nobody was taking the cans after a while, so Martie helped herself to a second. After an hour, another, even as she felt woozy._

 _Within twenty minutes of that third can, the contents of her stomach churned, and her vision started spinning. Feeling a sense of dread crawl up her throat, Martie quietly excused herself, and hobbled up the stairs, and fumbled on uneasy feet for the bathroom. It was on the left, wasn't it?_

 _No. It was on the right. The closet was on the left. But it was too late then. Before she could even stop herself, she began throwing up on the floor of the household's coat closet._

 _Martie began to sob, and sank onto her knees as her stomach emptied itself in a virtual stranger's house. When she felt it was finally over, she shakily got onto her knees, still crying._

 _This wasn't fun anymore._

 _Stumbling into the bathroom to clean her face and cry more, Martie's hands shook violently, hoping nobody saw what she did. Or how stupid she was._

 _Knowing she was probably going to be in huge trouble in some sort of regard, and being too sick to care, Martie used the telephone in the foyer to dial home. Her stomach twisted painfully as she anticipated talking to her mother or father on the other line._

 _"Hello?", Laramie's voice chirped on the other line._

 _Martie almost sobbed in relief, "L-Lari, it's Martie. Can you p-pick me up?"_

 _"Hey, what's wrong?", he immediately sounded worried, "Did some punk try to make a move on you? I'll bean 'em if-"_

 _"N-no!", she cried, "I had beer and I threw up in a closet!"_

 _"Oh," he stifled a small laugh, still sympathetic to her cause, "Ok, you're at the Landson's place, right?"_

 _"Yeah," she whimpered._

 _"Ok, I'll pick you up out front, alright?", he assured, "I'll be over soon," then hung up._

 _Shuffling outside, Martie resisted the urge to throw up again, and went over to the front lawn near her poorly parked bike, and dropped onto her side, deciding to rest on the grass and cry over how shitty she felt physically and how stupid she felt inside._

 _Laramie pulled up in their family's station wagon within fifteen minutes, and got out to dump his sister's bike in the trunk, and then lift her into the back seat of the car._

 _"Y'ok, sis?", he smiled._

 _"I'm a dummy!", she wailed._

 _"Yeah, but you're my dummy. So how many of those things did you drink?", he asked as he started the car, and drove for home._

 _"Three," she sniffled._

 _"Three? Well no wonder you feel like crap!", he exclaimed, "You don't ever drink that much in that little of time! Only an idiot does that!"_

 _Martie bawled louder, and Laramie sighed, "Look, just for next time, stick to one or two, and sip them. Chugging them is a bad move."_

 _"Ok," she whimpered into the car seat, "Are you going to tell mom and dad?"_

 _"Hell no," he rolled his eyes, "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna go home, get your stomach emptied out in the toilet if you haven't already done that in their closet, and then you're going to bed. If mom and dad even ask, we're going to say it's stomach flu, got it?"_

 _"Got it," she whimpered._

 _"But hey, want to know the cool thing from this?", he glanced in the back, "Aside from knowing that you can maybe handle more than three beers before going black out drunk?"_

 _"Yeah?", she groaned, head pounding._

 _"You experienced your first real party. And before high school. I'm jealous", he grinned softly._

 _Martie weakly smiled against the seat of the car._

 _"Stay jealous bro."_


	2. Club Detention

_Martie wasn't that surprised she was sent to detention within the first two weeks of school. Coming late to class, not raising her hand, improperly parking her bike, smoking in non-designated areas, and dress code. It wasn't her problem if the draconic heads of this institution were offended by her bellybutton, she was going to wear her shirts and pants how she wanted._

 _She got accustomed to the detention room, even claiming her favorite spot, the desk in the far back left, so she could carve in the desk with a straightened paper clip or safety pin from her flowers that she kept in her hair. That was another thing they pegged her for, the flowers. They didn't want live plants in her hair for the stupidest reason ever. Who cares if it attracted bees? The school attracted roaches, that was a bigger travesty in her head._

 _After nearly bi-weekly detention for two months, Martie was convinced her butt was accustomed to the seat, and thus was surprised to see another girl had snagged her spot. Her obvious spot. Well maybe not explicitly obvious, but she'd figured the aura around it screamed 'This is Queen Martie's Seat, Get Out Peasants'._

 _"Uh...I think that's my seat," she smiled as politely as she could, tapping the desk to get the girl's attention._

 _"Is your name on it?", the girl shot back with a raised brow._

 _"...well, no, but I always sit here."_

 _"A regular eh?", the girl sat up a bit, giving a knowing smile, "What are your crimes?"_

 _"Being a girl with a bellybutton for one," Martie began to use her fingers to list her record, going through everything, "And I still manage to keep a B average in every class."_

 _"Impressive," the girl grinned, "I got busted for smoking in the bathroom."_

 _"Excellent," Martie snickered, and settled on the desk next to her._

 _"I'm Vidalia by the way."_

 _"Martie," she grinned, "Or Martha if you're over sixty."_

 _"Martha sounds like a fat grandma's name," Vidalia snickered._

 _"I got my name from my fat grandma," Martie wheezed, and both girls laughed._

 _"You want a smoke?", Vidalia then invited, "I mean, for after this?"_

 _"I've got my own," she smiled, pointing to the half-used pack peeking out of her schoolbag, "I'll join you for a smoke though," she clicked her tongue, and pulled out a safety pin, beginning to carve into the other desk._

 _Vidalia reached into her own schoolbag, and pulled out a few pens, starting to draw on the desk that Martie had previously vandalized._

 _"So how long does it take you to do your makeup like that every day," Martie then asked her, noticing the girl's thick eyeliner and colors._

 _"Eh, I don't do it that often," Vidalia shrugged, "I'm just practicing with the look of it."_

 _"It looks badass," Martie stuck her tongue out, and tried to peek on what Vidalia was drawing. When Vidalia noticed her, she flushed a bit, and blocked it with her hand._

 _"Whoops," Martie laughed apologetically, then grinned, "How long you been growing your hair out?"_

 _"Like ten years."_

 _"Can you beat my twelve?", she grinned daringly._

 _"No wonder it's past your ass," Vidalia noticed with a snicker, then kept scribbling. After a moment, she looked up, "You ever considered like, braiding it, and putting flowers in the braid? That would totally look wicked with your flowerchild style."_

 _"Flowerchild?"_

 _"Yeah. Hippie," Vidalia crinkled her nose as she laughed._

 _"Yeah. Maybe," Martie grinned a little, and continued carving misshapen flowers into the desk while Vidalia worked on what Martie would soon discover was a full-desk abstract masterpiece._

* * *

Lars had opted to forget his curiosity about his uncle and namesake, and was shuffling through the multiple photos his mother had taken of Vidalia, finding it amusing that she had so many of them. He never would have imagined they would have known each other like that.

He looked in the box he'd spilled again, wondering if there were more photos. There was three more stacks, and a folded slip of paper. Pulling them out, Lars unfolded the paper, and saw a list of grades, dated back to when his mother would be in sophomore year.

She had one B, five C's, and two D's.

Lars was surprised to see such...below average grades from his mother, almost wanting to comment that the apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree in this regard. He looked down at the teacher comments, and bust out laughing.

 _"Martha is a bright, but argumentative and complicated student...she'd do much better though...IF SHE ACTUALLY STAYED IN CLASS._ "

* * *

 _"Let's see," Martie grinned to herself, "We have a protest downtown to argue against the pollution of oil rigs...or...a math test. Wow...what a hard decision!", she snickered sarcastically. Who cared? She knew everything on that test anyway, she could just make it up in detention!_

 _Hopping off her bike, and heading into school, she stopped Vidalia just before the bell rang, "Hey! You going to that protest by city hall today?"_

 _"It's during fourth period," Vidalia blew a raspberry._

 _"So?"_

 _"Math test?"_

 _"We could just do it in detention," Martie shrugged._

 _"That means the highest you could get on it is a B," Vidalia tied her hair back, "And I don't know what you're aiming for, but I'd kind of like to not fail this class."_

 _"One B isn't gonna kill you!", she snorted, then sighed, "Fine, I'll just go myself. I don't want to be found dead floating in oily water twenty years from now."_

 _"Good luck with that!", Vidalia singsonged, waving at her off as she headed to her first class._

 _When third period rolled around, in the middle of history, Martie faked a sore throat (which wasn't hard to do, thanks to her smoking habit), and bolted out of the school as quickly as she could, buying a large sheet of posterboard at the local market, and using a large marker from her backpack, wrote her slogan, "CLEAN YOUR OIL AND YOUR ACT"._

 _It seemed too tasteful. She drew a stick figure dying in a large scribble meant to be oil. There. That ought to shock them!_

 _She biked towards City Hall, parking her bike near a meter and locking it to a bench, and saw the crowd slowly starting to form. Tucking her sign under her arm, she hurried over, wanting to stand close to where the protest leader would be rallying the group over a megaphone._

 _As soon as the crowd got packed in, Martie lifted her sign, and was immediately nudged, pushed and crowded further back, someone complaining that they couldn't see. She complained, but decided it wasn't worth it, keeping her sign lifted up proudly._

 _The speaker was really eloquent. At least, Martie thought so. She honestly really couldn't hear anything, it all came out too loud, and too fuzzy through the megaphone. But whatever they were saying really got everyone riled up!_

 _After about ten minutes, Martie's arms began to get tired, and she started to lower her sign down. Just as she was about to, someone tapped the back of her arm, and she looked behind her._

 _"Am I late?", Vidalia grinned._

 _"You came!", Martie cheered._

 _"Yeah, I only gave you shit for grades because there was a teacher literally standing right behind you."_

 _"Oh jesus," she wheezed, "So you sold me out. Fink."_

 _"I'm rotten," Vidalia grinned, sticking her tongue out, "Need help keeping that sign up?"_

 _Vidalia and Martie each held up one side, easing the strain on their arms, and shouted and cheered with the rest of the crowd. The spirit of change and rebellion was invigorating._

 _The protest ended an hour early when some jerk had thrown a soda can at a woman who ignored his catcalling, and at least fifteen protestors broke off to chase after him. Martie and Vidalia both joined in, and eagerly dumped a large bottle of soda on the guy's head. Just as they had finished that, a police car turned the corner, and everyone scattered. Vidalia had grabbed Martie by the hand, and they both ran for the bench where Martie's bike had been parked. Carefully balancing Vidalia onto her lap, Martie sped away, not stopping until they reached her house, where they both fell off the bike in peals of laughter._

 _The next day in detention, both girls stared at their tests for forty minutes in blank silence. Maybe they hadn't known everything on the test after all._

 _Martie volunteered to grab her family's mail every day for the next three weeks. When her report card showed up, she'd stowed it in her room, never to be seen. She made sure to do it with all her report cards until she was back to her B average in every class._

 _She'd read the teachers' comments on them to Laramie over the phone for a good laugh on Friday nights, then asking him how college was._

 _"It's great!", he'd say, going on about how many friends he was making, how much his teachers liked him, how eager he was to start his major._

 _"Don't forget us when you're a big famous scientist or doctor, alright?", she smiled._

 _"And don't forget me when you're Queen of the holding cell at county jail, alright?", he teased._

 _"Got it," she stuck her tongue out, "G'night, Laramie."_

 _"G'night, Martie."_

* * *

 **Fair warning that next chapter, things will be getting a little bit more intense and warnings will be posted before the chapter !**


	3. Best of the Worst

**Chapter Warnings: Divorce, Character death and brief but heavy mentions of suicide.**

* * *

 _"You look tired, Vi," Martie had spoken up as she sorted through her records on the floor. One of them was playing softly in the background, and she had been quietly singing along to it until she noticed Vidalia wasn't joining her like she sometimes did._

 _"I am tired," Vidalia mumbled, "Tired of everything."_

 _"What's up?", Martie then frowned, putting down one of the vinyls, walking over and flopping on the bed next to her friend, who was laying flat and staring at the ceiling._

 _"I'm just sick of my parents fighting. Over the house. Over me. Over everything," she grumbled, flicking some of her loose hair out of her face, "The sooner one of those nutjobs moves out, the better."_

 _"They fight over you?"_

 _"More like where I'm gonna live when they split up. And for how long, and on what days. It sucks so bad, I'm like, so ready to just emancipate myself from them, and live with my grandpa."_

 _"Yuck," Martie huffed, and lay down near her, staring at the ceiling tiles, "You want something to eat?"_

 _"Nah," Vidalia muttered, then lifting her wrist up, "You want this charm bracelet?"_

 _"What for?"_

 _"My mom gave it to me. I don't even want it. She got it after my dad got me that jacket."_

 _"What's wrong with that?"_

 _"They're only giving me this stuff because of their fighting. They think if they give me shit, they can win me over the other or something."_

 _Martie then sat up, "Ew. Hey, look. Trust me when I tell you this: Nobody gets to own you, okay? Even your parents."_

 _Stretching her feet, she then continued, "Like, I know you probably feel like you have to pick one of them to like, but you can just like...forfeit, and tell them you're not playing their game. Or heck, even better, don't tell them anything! You don't owe them that! Just don't play!"_

 _"Easier said than done," Vidalia huffed, sitting up beside her, "But...thanks for the thought."_

 _"Hey, if it makes things easier, if you don't ever want to be over at your house to deal with their shit, you can always come over here and wait it out."_

 _"That's what I'm doing now, and what I intended to keep doing without even bringing it up," she then admitted, cracking a small smile._

 _"You're the worst Vidalia," Martie smiled._

 _"And you're the best of the worst," Vidalia smiled back, listening to the music sailing in the air as eventually, one of each of their hands had ended up lazily touching the other's._

* * *

 _"How's apartment living, Lare?"_

 _"It's alright...," Laramie spoke over the phone, "Utilities cost way too much per month, but at least this place has air conditioner during this heatwave," he chuckled softly, "How's your summer going so far?"_

 _"Great!", Martie grinned as she sat on her bed, testing out her new rotary phone, "I'm headed out to an art museum with Vi in a couple of days."_

 _"You sure spend a lot of time with Vi," he spoke with an amused tone._

 _"Well of course, we're best friends, duh!", she snickered, "You hang out with your friends all the time, right?"_

 _"...yeah," he shrugged, then smiled, "How're mom and dad doing?"_

 _"Busy as ever," she sighed, "They've been waiting for you to call around though."_

 _"I know, life just gets hectic," he huffed, "So what kind of art is Vi going to show you? Nudie art?", he teased._

 _"Ha ha," she snorted, "...I don't even know. Vidalia's taste in art is weird."_

 _"How weird?"_

 _"Well, it's like...she likes a lot of different things. One day it's sculpture, the next its weird shapes on a canvas, another it's paint splatters..."_

 _"So for all you know the museum's going to have nothing but boxes," he snickered._

 _"Maybe. Or food," Martie giggled back._

 _The two siblings chatted over the phone with ease for over an hour. When the conversation began to lull, Laramie had asked something that Martie didn't quite understand._

 _"Do you ever get lonely? Even when you're around people?"_

 _In a split second, she shook her head, "Of course not! I'm always talking to someone," she shrugged._

 _"Of course," he laughed a little, "Well, it's pretty late over here. You should probably get to bed."_

 _"Bed sucks."_

 _"Only at night. In the morning it feels great," he grinned, "Hey, before I forget, when school starts up, and they give you that junior paper, you can snag the one I have in my room, and copy it if you wanna."_

 _"Fine fine," she sighed, "Talk to you later?"_

 _"Sure thing."_

 _"G'night, Laramie."_

 _"Goodbye, Martie."_

* * *

 _Vidalia scowled as she dialed Martie's telephone number for the third time, wondering where on earth her friend was. They were supposed to meet at her mother's house to walk to the bus stop together to head to the museum, but it had been over an hour and Martie still hadn't shown up._

 _When the phone finally picked up, Vidalia huffed, "About damn time! Where the hell are you? The museum is only open until 5, Mart!"_

 _"Oh...uh...", Martie spoke soft and weak, "I can't go."_

 _"What?! And you couldn't call and tell me that earlier?", Vidalia groaned, "Can we go tomorrow?"_

 _"I...I don't think I can go anywhere for a while-" Martie's voice died away and she suddenly hung up the phone._

 _Once she had hung up, she rushed back up the stairs, slamming and locking the room's door, swallowing back down the horrible burn in her chest and throat._

 _He'd left behind a lot of his childhood toys, the ones he shared with her. His 'Cosmic Kidd' bedsheets were still neatly pressed, and his nerdy movie posters decorated the wall._

 _Martie slumped in the space of the wall and the adjacent toybox. If she opened it, there was sure to be his old stash of comics and his old Superman costume._

 _A costume he'd never wear again._

 _Comics that he'd never read again._

 _Posters that he'd never take down._

 _A bed that he'd never sleep in again._

 _"Martie," her mother had said through tears hours earlier, before she had broken down, and her husband had to take over._

 _"Laramie is dead."_

* * *

Lars' chest had tightened at the revelation in his mother's writing of Laramie's fate. There were smudges of ink where the paper had buckled, probably from her tears, and suddenly this little book felt a lot heavier in his hand.

Swallowing hard, he flipped the page to continue reading.

 _"...They found out what happened to him finally...and I can't believe it took an entire week...but he shot himself. Right in the head. They found him in his room, on his bed. He didn't leave a note._

 _And I don't even know why...especially since he said he would talk to me again. He lied to me. He lied to everyone._

 _He was always laughing and smiling...why'd he go and do something dumb like that? He had so much going for him. He was so close to getting his Masters. I know his grades weren't that great the last couple years but he was really smart...he just needed a little effort...why couldn't he do it?"_

Lars bit his lip, running his thumb across the page. His face grew hot, both in anxiety and in anger.

How could his uncle have gone, and left his kid sister all alone like that? How could his mom ever forgive him for that? She had to, obviously, if she named Lars after him.

It made sense that she might have not told him about her brother, especially if it brought up bad memories...

...but what if she named him out of hatred? Sadness? Bitterness? Prediction that her son would end up more or less the same, or worse off?

That sure would have explained a lot.

"Aw man, ma..."

Lars could only predict the tone of his mother's chipper, eager writing was going to change in the following pages.

He blinked away a hot wet layer of blurriness from his eyes as he read the final sentence on the current spread.

 _"Laramie is dead. And something in me has died too."_

* * *

 _Vidalia hardly saw her friend over that summer. She didn't even really talk to her during school once it started up again, even in the classes they had together._

 _She had to admit though, she was surprised Martie was being pretty diligent about attending and not skipping classes. Back in sophomore year, they were skipping classes at least twice a week to go smoke behind the football lockers, but for these last several weeks of junior year, Vidalia found herself smoking alone._

 _It had been at least four months. And in the few fleeting moments where the two girls would talk, Martie never brought up Laramie. If Vidalia asked how Martie's family was doing, Martie would rebuff her coldly, and insist they were fine. That she was fine._

 _Vidalia couldn't take it anymore. This wasn't Martie._

 _One Sunday afternoon, she rode her bike the whole way to the Dubois residence, surprised to see Martie out front in a holey old t-shirt, overalls, and worn out shoes, on her knees in the front garden, pulling weeds._

 _"Hey, Mart," Vidalia called out._

 _Martie looked up, then back down, giving a soft, "Hi."_

 _"Why don't you ditch the garden and come shoot some bb's with me at the gallery on the boardwalk?"_

 _"No thanks," she mumbled, "I already told my mom I was going to do this today."_

 _"Since when did you ever care about that?", Vidalia snorted._

 _Martie gave a cold look, and muttered, "I'm busy."_

 _"Hey," Vidalia frowned, and sat on her knees near her friend in the grass, "It's been over four months-"_

 _"It's not because of that," the redhead hissed, yanking at a thicker patch of weeds, "I just don't feel like playing hooky anymore."_

 _"You can't just be a goody-two sh-"_

 _"I'm not!", she suddenly snapped, glaring at Vidalia as she started yanking harder at the plants, not even caring if she was grabbing at weeds._

 _"...I'm sorry...I know you miss him-"_

 _"Stop it," Martie snarled lividly._

 _"But you really think he'd want you like this, all boring and-"_

 _" Don't you tell me what he'd want! I know he wouldn't want a fucking failure of a sister that he had when he was alive!", she suddenly broke into a tirade, clawing angrily at the dirt and throwing weeds and flowers harshly into the weeding bucket, "He was pretending he wasn't totally embarrassed by me and my partying, my grades, my hobbies...like he was pretending that he was ever happy to be here, and that he was pretending that he'd call me again and tell me what he was going through, and ask me if I'd even miss him!", she then sat up, and choked, holding back a sob._

 _"He...never even asked me what would happen to me if he went and did that!", she gripped at her chest, tears already starting to come out of her eyes._

 _"It's my fault he's dead...", she cried, "He must have hated who I was. Why would he have gone and died if he knew I was still counting on him?"_

 _Her fists shook, and slowly fell into her lap as she finally let out all the grief and sorrow she'd been holding back, choking on her cries, asking Vidalia why Laramie had done this to her, to her family. Why she couldn't have done better...why she couldn't have changed her ways if it meant he would still be alive._

 _"Hey wait no!" Vidalia immediately started, "Mar, what happened isn't your fault!", and she grabbed her friend, hugging her tightly, "He was just really sick...in the head and stuff...he couldn't help feeling that way, he just didn't want you to worry about him-"_

 _She stopped a moment while Martie cried loudly against her chest, and she rubbed her back, running her hand through her red hair._

 _"...Laramie was like...a really cool dude...like...he knew your vibe...and he totally loved seeing you rock it...he didn't want you to change...he just had his own issues to deal with...and he couldn't...and it wasn't your fault for not knowing that if he never even told you."_

 _She kept petting Martie's hair, the girl's sobs still causing her to shake, but slowly growing quieter._

 _"Like, I dunno everything about this, and I don't think I have all the great answers...but...you don't have to change because he's gone...you don't have to change for me."_

 _Martie peered up with teary eyes, sniffling softly._

 _" I like you, and you like you. Don't even deny that, Mar," she grinned, "I'm not going anywhere."_

 _Sniffling, Martie gave a weak smile, and Vidalia grinned._

 _"There's that stupid cute smile!", she cackled, and grinned, "Momma gonna kiss off those tears on your face if you don't stop them!", and held true to that promise, giving friendly pecks on the cheek all over that made Martie suddenly squeal and start giggling from the ticklish sensation._

 _"Ahahaha don't!", the girl laughed through her tears, sinking against her friend._

 _"Feeling better?", Vidalia asked after a few minutes._

 _"A little," Martie sniffed, rubbing her face, and staying almost snuggled in the hug, "Thanks Vi."_

 _"Anytime," she smiled, "Hey...that exhibit I was talking about over the summer is still at the museum until Friday. The museum's open another four hours if you wanna catch the next bus and-"_

 _"Okay," the girl suddenly sat up, giving a bigger smile, "That would be great...let me just change into something that's fit for the museum and that my mother will absolutely hate."_

 _Vidalia snickered, "There's my wild hippie woman."_

 _Restored to her favorite outfit and her favorite expression of self, Martie held Vidalia's hand the entire way to the bus stop, heart feeling lighter than it had in months._


	4. Songbird

**Chapter Warnings: References to homophobia, child abuse, and implied sexual activity.**

* * *

 _"I swear to god if this movie doesn't have a bear eating a hermit's leg like you promised me, I'll never speak to you again," Martie pointed at Vidalia as they stood in line for the Saturday evening movie, their decided summer weekend ritual before senior year._

 _"Be prepared to speak to me forever," Vidalia grinned, having prided herself on seeing this movie three times since it came out the week earlier, "You'll love it, promise."_

 _"What do you think of that one coming out next month? "The Organ Pickler"?"_

 _"Aw man, that one just looks overrated if you ask me. But with the whole budget and names they have on it, they're probably gonna milk it into at least seven sequels."_

 _"Yeah, probably," Martie giggled, and the two bought their tickets, snacks (everything was nice and cheap!), and picked their seats. The two briefly argued over which was better, the middle row or the back row, and settled on the row in between._

 _Once the movie started, the two had relaxed in their seats, and Vidalia was quick to enjoy the movie. Martie was liking it, but soon began to drift into her own thoughts._

 _She thought about Vidalia a lot these days. More than she honestly really should. But that wasn't a bad thing. Sometimes she'd think of how the girl's voice would get gravely and hoarse whenever she laughed too much, or how loud she would scream along to her rock music. She liked how soft and puffy her leather jacket was on her, and how it added a level of comfort to her hugs._

 _She liked whenever she kissed her cheek. And she sometimes thought about the possibility of those kisses being pressed somewhere else on her face._

 _Maybe she wasn't in love. She didn't know. But she certainly did like her._

 _Giving a shy smile, she relaxed herself against Vidalia's side, her head gently resting on her shoulder, still staring at the screen._

 _Vidalia had jolted forward to cheer with malicious delight as the hermit's leg became bear food in the film, but immediately sank back down in her seat, and without even a word, leaned right back against Martie, so Martie's head was sandwiched between her own head and shoulder. Neither of them moved for the rest of the movie._

 _Nothing had been said during the bike ride to Vidalia's mother's house, Martie balancing her friend on her lap once again, both smiling. Once they reached the front of the house, they both looked at each other._

 _"See you tomorrow at the boardwalk?"_

 _"Sure," Vidalia grinned, not exactly noticing they were both still holding onto each other's hand very loosely._

 _They both stared aside a moment, until Martie raised her head to look at the other, blushing lightly._

 _It was silent for a second._

 _'...Is it ok?'_

 _'...It's ok.'_

 _And then they both quickly leaned in to kiss._

 _Before either of them could fully analyze their feelings in the moment, a shriek ripped close to their ears, forcing them to break apart._

 _"Vidalia! What the hell are you doing?", the girl's mother screeched from the window, looking furious._

 _"Oh shit," Vidalia whispered, and suddenly shoved Martie away, whispering quickly, "You better go-"_

 _"But-"_

 _"I'll talk to you tomorrow!", she whispered and rushed inside._

 _Martie scrambled away from the house in slight panic, hopping on her bike and speeding down the road. As soon as the adrenaline of panic washed away, all that was left was the warm lingering effects from the first kiss she'd ever given a damn about and wasn't the result of a spin the bottle game._

* * *

 _"Your eye!", Martie gasped softly as she noticed the impressive shiner on Vidalia's face as they sat on a bench, "Did your mom do that?"_

 _"Don't worry," Vidalia stuck her tongue out, "It looks worse than it feels."_

 _"...Are you gonna be okay?"_

 _"I'll be fine," Vidalia assured, "She can't do much worse to me."_

 _Martie worriedly reached for Vidalia's hand, gently rubbing it as it rested on her knee._

 _"...I don't think I should come by your house anymore," she spoke up, "I don't think it's safe for you."_

 _"...well what if I want to hang out with you?"_

 _"Then we do it in public, like here!", Martie chirped, gesturing to the boardwalk, "Or my house even."_

 _"Aren't your folks even more weird about this than mine?"_

 _"Oh please, they hardly even notice anything I do anymore. I smoked dope in my room with the door open and they never even saw it. We could get away with murder in that house."_

 _"Aight," Vidalia smiled a bit, and squeezed Martie's hand, "That was really fun last night by the way."_

 _"Yeah," the other smiled back, and after a few seconds, kissed Vidalia right on the nose._

 _"Had to think it through, huh?", Vidalia teased, returning the affection without hesitation._

 _Martie had taken those three seconds to make sure nobody had been watching. Just in case._

* * *

Lars stared at the journal entry, and two of the polaroids that showed his mother kissing, of all people, Sour Cream's mother.

"Holy-", he wheezed in disbelief and slight amusement. He wondered what would happen if he were to go downstairs when his mother got home, and ask her if those invites for tea from Vidalia were code for something else. It would be pretty funny to see her freak out over it, but then she'd know he read her diary, and that would probably make her mad. And then what if his dad didn't know about his mom having a thing for girls? Would that cause a whole other fight?

Lars snorted, disappointed that the risks outweighed the gains.

 _Better keep reading._

* * *

 _Senior year didn't start out too great for them either. Neither of them outright told anyone that they were together, but apparently just their interactions were enough to instigate curious glances, whispers, and disapproving scowls._

 _The most they were even doing in school was holding hands. Not even kissing._

 _'Those two are totally shagging together.'_

 _'Ew'_

 _'You should see them after school, it's really gross.'_

 _A boy had muttered the dreaded d-word to Martie while going past her table during lunch one day, and she had promptly stood up and clocked him in the face hard enough to nearly break his jaw. She got suspended for fighting._

 _Vidalia skipped school for that week just to visit Martie at her house. It was there that they decided that they had to limit where they saw each other. It wasn't worth all this grief._

 _They avoided each other at school. They avoided each other at crowded public places. They avoided each other on the bus if there was too many people on board._

 _They'd meet after school and either rant about the day in Martie's room, or go to one of their select places to hang out: The sea caves where they'd hunt for starfish, the creek by the park where they'd toss stones, the old barn near Martie's house that had a rope swing they'd take turns on and cuddling in the hayloft._

 _It worked. But it also felt like there wasn't much else to do without someone making a stink about it. They liked to be alone together, but they didn't like being together alone._

* * *

 _When Martie turned 18, she bought herself and Vidalia tickets to a music festival north of Empire City. Vidalia had to sneak around her mother's judgmental eye just to even get out of the house for that weekend. She'd lied and said it was a post-graduation trip for seniors, not mentioning that it was just going to be her and Martie, in a car, alone._

 _The ride there had been uneventful, with Martie being a fairly skilled driver (though not necessarily careful). The two of them screeched along eagerly to the rock music blaring from the cassette tapes for the entire four hours, leaving their throats raw, but their spirits invigorated._

 _Before they got out of their cars to go into the festival crowd, Vidalia had spoken up, "You sure you're ok being around me?"_

 _"...Are you ok being around me?"_

 _Vidalia looked at the crowd, most of them already drunk and stoned out of their minds, then gave a bit of a grin, "We're not high schoolers anymore. Nobody can tell us what the fuck to do or who the fuck to be anymore..."_

 _She reached for Martie's hand, pulling her over to her, "Or who to be with."_

 _Martie grinned, and squeezed Vidalia's hand. Without even looking, she leaned up and kissed her right on the lips, and gave an excited laugh, "See! We didn't even burst into flames!"_

 _"Oh thank god," Vidalia wheezed and laughed, pressing her forehead against her girlfriend's._

 _They kept close to each other the whole time, dancing and cheering with the crowd when the music came out strong, embracing each other when the tunes were soft and loving, and all the same, Martie hardly even cared if anyone was watching them anymore._

 _When Martie's favorite song was playing, Vidalia kissed her. Then she kissed her again. And again._

 _By the time they'd taken a moment to stop, Vidalia's favorite song had just reached its end. They hadn't even noticed._

 _"...you wanna call it a night?", Vidalia had smiled softly._

 _"...yeah," Martie was still flushed bright pink, but fumbled for her car keys, "There's a motel around here somewhere, right?"_

* * *

Lars nearly dropped the book when he saw what the next bits of writing documented, and turned bright red.

"Way to go, _mom_ ," he wheezed under his breath, snickering but also feeling _so weirded out._

Part of him wanted to be really naughty and read everything that night documented. But another part of him; his common sense and decency and the fact that the intimate couple in question were his own mother and his friend's mother; basically screamed and whacked him upside the head to tell him to flip the page.

Or the next four. His mom was a pretty descriptive writer.

* * *

 _"You wear boxers?", Martie had asked, voice partially muffled by her pillow as she had herself swaddled in the blankets, watching Vidalia lean over the side of the bed for her clothes._

 _"They're a lot comfier than whatever the hell panties you were wearing," Vidalia clicked her tongue, sliding them on, and peered over Martie's side of the bed, "Can you grab my bra? It's right behind you."_

 _"Sure," she sat up, and leaned off the bed to grab it, and passing it over, then deciding to grab her own undergarments. The night before, they'd carelessly tossed all their clothes onto the floor, everything mismatched and wrinkled. It made for a bit of a struggle this morning, since they both wanted to get to the second day of the festival before they missed all the good music._

 _Vidalia laughed a little, and Marty looked over, not having realized the blankets were no longer covering her chest._

 _"Do you even need a bra, Mar?"_

 _"They still show through most of my tops," she huffed, cupping her own flatter chest, and saw her bra at the foot of the bed. She leaned over further to grab it, and gave a small squeak as she felt arms wrap around her torso and gently squeeze._

 _"That was fun," Vidalia snickered, " This was fun."_

 _"Yeah, it was," Martie smiled, sinking against her girlfriend, enjoying how warm she was, "I wouldn't mind doing this again later," she teased._

 _Vidalia was silent for a minute, then groaned, "Fuck."_

 _"What is it?"_

 _"College in the fall is gonna suck. I'll have to go out of state for school, since that's my only option left-"_

 _"Seriously?"_

 _"I'm not gonna live with my mom for four years, either I'd get kicked out, or she'd end up evicted for whatever reason-"_

 _"You could always come visit me on the weekends."_

 _"It's a four hour drive from home," she muttered, petting Martie's hair, "You're staying in town, right?"_

 _"Yeah," Martie mumbled, "...It's gonna feel weird without you here, babe."_

 _"...you think we're gonna be together whenever I come back?"_

 _"...I don't know," Martie admitted, "What if you meet some really awesome girl while you're there and-"_

 _"I don't know if that will happen that fast," Vidalia snorted, "But if that did happen, that's gonna be tough to handle."_

 _"Yeah," Martie spoke softly, already feeling in her gut that a break-up was bound to happen sooner or later._

 _"...I don't want this to end...not right now," she mumbled, eyes blurring with tears, hugging Vidalia tightly, "It's just too fast to end it now."_

 _"I know," Vidalia sighed, "...we still have the whole summer...why don't we just wait until it's over and then call it a 'sort-of-breakup?'"_

 _"...Maybe," Martie smiled a little, then rubbed her eyes, "Do you want to head to the festival?"_

 _"Maybe in a bit," Vidalia suddenly grinned mischievously, "Because like I found out last night, there's a whole different kind of music that comes out of your mouth whenever I tickle or kiss you that one way!"_

 _She playfully tackled Martie who was crying out with laughter as she almost fell off the bed._

* * *

Doing a quick flip through, Lars groaned as he saw the next ten pages covered that entire summer, and those...certain activities.

"Ok mom, you had a really great time with your ex back then. I get it," he snickered, soon coming across to the next page he was willing to read.

* * *

 **For anyone wondering of when exactly this takes place, I have to say, I don't know. For all I know, this could be the 1980s, and with how much Gems have changed history, the 60s vibe was in the 80s? Plausible? Maybe.**

 **Anyways, hope you're enjoying this!**


	5. Wildflower

_College was fantastic. But not for the reasons one expected. For Martie, college was less of a learning experience, and more of a place for networking. The guy in the writing class? He had a van. The girl in chem? A greenhouse. Half of her history class? All seasoned protesters for various causes._

 _They'd skip those classes whenever they could, or sneak out early, and discuss upcoming events, possible bartering for rides to the meetings or weed. Drugs were technically illegal on campus, but the empty parking lot always ended up being a pretty good place for Martie to sit down with her friends while they all breathed in the haze of enlightenment._

 _Her new friends were different than Vidalia, but they were still fun. Harold, a theater major, was a bighearted ray of sunshine, he always had a smile and hug for everyone he met. He'd always be chattering about how he was going to get into musical theater, and get to Kansas or Empire City. After one term, he then started saying he was going to get into TV acting. Another term later, it was jazz music. The next, R &B music. He just couldn't decide what he wanted._

 _When Martie got around to missing Vidalia or Laramie, especially since the college had his name on a plaque in a memorial garden, Harold would sense her sadness, and without question, give her the biggest hug ever._

 _Another girl, Barb, was a huge overachiever in spirit, but in practice, she couldn't stick to one area of interest. It was almost like she'd be going from one classroom to another. Martie tried to get to know her a bit more, going to movies and sporting events, but they didn't have much in common it seemed. Also, she was pretty sure that Barb had a crush on her for a while, and Martie didn't know how exactly to turn her down. Barb was nice...but she just didn't feel much for her. So she said nothing, and did nothing. Eventually, she figured, Barb would move on._

 _When Barb straight up asked her out, Martie had to bite the bullet and turn her down. Yes, she liked girls, but that didn't mean she would pursue every girl she met. As much as she feared the worst reaction from Barb, she actually took it really well. That was good._

 _The other people met, Martie never really considered them friends, but they had such common interests, their get togethers were worth going to, and Martie found herself spending more time with them than her actual handful of friends._

 _She'd tried calling Vidalia every weekend, but she never picked up, and the one time she was there, they were both so exhausted from friends and schoolwork, they only talked briefly._

 _Whenever she wasn't with her friends or 'enlightenment circle', Martie just found she was really lonely. So she'd spend more time out of the house than ever._

 _She didn't remember who invited her, but when given the opportunity to attend a series of protests along the coastline, she accepted it in a heartbeat. She wanted new sights, new experiences, the chance to be a part of something bigger than anything she could do remaining here._

 _Her parents were furious when they found out she dropped out of all her classes before spring term of her junior year was even over, but before they could even tell off, punish, or disown her, she was already hopping into the back seat of a hand-painted van, a duffel bag of clothes and a few belongings slung over her shoulder._

 _Beach City Martie was done for. It was time for new horizons._

* * *

Lars felt a little angry, remembering an argument he'd had with his parents a few weeks ago, both of them insisting he finish high school and college under their roof.

 _Obviously, you didn't have to finish college, and you turned out fine. _

Glaring, he flopped back on the bed, staring ahead at the ceiling, still feeling annoyed over the double standard he was getting held to. His mom got to frolic around like a flower child at his age, and he had to break his back to work full time and get classes done?

Huffing, he held the book in front of his face, reading while still laying on his back.

* * *

 _Peace, love, and harmony were the principles she had promised herself to live on. But Martie was too quick to make exceptions._

 _The more seasoned members of the group she was traveling with were having to constantly remind her not to chase people down, and that the idea of a sit in was that she was sitting in protest._

 _In one town, while holding her picket sign up in the air, some slime ball dared to sneak up behind Martie and snap her bra strap. She'd promptly brought her thick wooden sign down on his head, and caused him to bleed. She immediately was ushered into the van to hide when police came around the corner._

 _The protest organizers were more forceful with guidelines during the next protest upstate, fixing their glares on Martie the entire time. She stared right back, stiff as a board, determined not to fuck this one up._

 _A fight broke out. Martie stayed standing, sign risen high in the air. Her arms hurt, and someone had jabbed her in the side. She stood standing, shaking violently, stuttering out her slogan, until she felt a fist graze past her cheek, and that had been the last straw._

 _Chucking her sign to the ground, she began to rush into the brawl, ready to give someone a mouthful of broken teeth. All of a sudden, someone shouted that the fuzz had arrived, and everyone began scrambling. Martie stumbled backward, and began to search around for her sign, knowing she'd flung it to the ground in her rage. As soon as she found it, someone had suddenly grabbed her by her arms, harshly pushing them behind her back and forcing her on the ground._

 _Next thing she knew, she was in the back of a police car, shaking terribly, and squished between two other protesters who were hissing at her to shut up when she began to yelp that she hadn't even touched anybody._

 _They'd put Martie in a holding cell with at least four other people, three of whom were crowding the bench, leaving Martie to sit on the floor against the wall near another protester._

 _"I don't want to get sent back home-", she whispered to nobody in particular, "I don't want to be stuck here forever."_

 _"Don't worry," a kind voice spoke up, "We'll all be out of here before nightfall I'm betting."_

 _Martie turned her head to see the male protester sitting beside her smiling at her with reassurance, "This is my first time in jail."_

 _"I can tell," he smiled, "Fresh out of college?"_

 _"Yep," she muttered._

 _"Well, welcome to the road," he gestured, "It's the best school you'll ever have in your life."_

 _"I'm flunking," she joked weakly._

 _"Just a little," he snickered, "But hey, if you stick with us, me in particular, you'll be fine. Promise."_

 _"Thanks," she smiled, feeling a lot better knowing there was a seasoned traveler on her side, "I'm Martie."_

 _"Friends call me Dee."_

* * *

"Oh my god," Lars snickered, "She must be writing about dad. Did he really go by Dee as a kid? Was he really a hippie? All short and bald? Yuck."

He was so ready to see his father's transformation into his present self from whoever this 'Dee' guy was. He began to leaf through photos until he came across one labeled as 'Dee'.

"Wait a minute..."

This guy didn't look like his dad at all.

He didn't have his dad's short build, dark skin, or even his face. He was too tall, stringy, and pale.

This guy _wasn't_ his dad.

Lars decided he had better keep on reading. That was a shame. Seeing Dante as a hippie would have been the most entertaining thing of the year.

* * *

 _The road lifestyle that Dee had gotten her accustomed to was a bit of an adjustment for her, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle._

 _For one, he was much more eager about 'enlightenment' on the road. The back of the van ended up being in a constant haze, engulfing everyone so much that the driver would have to pull over every hour or so to air out the car. Martie didn't complain about it though. Dee seemed like he knew what he was doing. He wore a pair of round violet sunglasses that shielded his eyes from view, and they somehow made everything he did seem more confident._

 _He always talked, but he never really made sense, either from the drugs they were all on, or from the fact that the music was so loud, nobody could hear a damn thing. But maybe it was meant to be sensed as a mood through tone, and not as actual words or thoughts. Maybe._

 _He called everyone brother. Even the girls. Except Martie. She was 'Wildflower'._

 _For whatever reason, Martie found his strange wisdom attractive, so when he started flirting with her after their next protest together, she went along with it. She didn't object to any of the affection, and she didn't object to sleeping with him whenever they were alone together at motels or hostels the group stopped at._

 _One morning, after about a month, Martie found herself alone in the motel bed, and there was a note on top of her duffel bag._

 _"Maggie,_

 _Had to hit the road with another brother. Hopefully we'll meet up again soon._

 _Keep it real, Wildflower._

 _Dee_

 _P.S. I left you my sunglasses and some of my stuff in your bag, just leave it alone."_

 _She tore the note faster than his absence could tear her heart. He didn't even get her name right!_

 _She grabbed the large round sunglasses without caring about anything else he left in her bag._

 _"I'm wearing these because I want to, not because he left them for me," she grumbled to herself, enjoying that they were hers now. He wasn't getting them back if she could help it._

 _A few weeks later, the van had broken down, and Martie opted to stay in the van with a few other travel mates and split more weed. But as soon as the smell hit her nose, she felt her stomach churn, and felt a desperate need for fresh air, hopping out of the van, and suddenly her knees buckled as she threw up onto the roadside._

 _"You OK there, hon?", one of the people working on trying to fix the car called out to her._

 _"I'm fine," she wheezed, feeling feverish from the sudden sickness she'd had, "I think some car exhaust got mixed in with the weed smoke."_

 _"Ew," they snickered._

 _She returned towards the car, her legs shaking a little. Deciding she didn't want to feel sick again, she sat on the rear bumper of the car, flipping her sunglasses back onto her face, and taking a deep breath. When she closed her eyes, the rushing cars sounded just like the ocean from back home._

 _A police car had pulled over to see why the van was on the side of the road, and one of the officers smelled the smoke, and insisted on searching the van, and all the bags, including Martie's._

 _And thanks to whatever Dee stowed in there, Martie found herself and everyone else in that car getting hauled to jail, one of the riders glaring at her while the other insisted they'd have a buddy coming to pick them up that next morning._

 _Nobody believed or listened to Martie's insistence that the incriminating items weren't even hers. They were Dee's. He left them with her so then he wouldn't get caught with them._

 _What a rotten fink._

 _After four hours of sitting in the cell, and failed attempts to bribe the cops or pick the locks, it happened again. Martie didn't even see it coming, but in less than two seconds she was overcome with a terrible wave of nausea, and she wound up on the floor of the cell when she tried to stand up and get a guard's attention._

 _An officer called for the nurse on staff to come over and tend to the fallen girl, and usher her into the first aid office, where they asked what felt like an endless stream of questions, for her symptoms, their duration, her medical history, drugs, sexual activity, etc._

 _The nurse, once the examination had been finished and a possible diagnosis had been made, suggested to Martie that she see the medical clinic a block away once she was released with her group on bail that next day, just in case they might be wrong. But Martie had a gut feeling that the nurse was right._

 _She was returned to the holding cell with her group, who asked her what the nurse had said, and Martie told them nothing._

 _Except that Dee was a rotten fink who probably knew what he was doing this whole time, bailing on her._

 _She was pregnant._


	6. August

**Chapter warnings: Mentions of wedlock and childbirth**

* * *

Lars frantically rooted through the boxes in the attic, almost panicked.

"Whereisit oh shit where...", he whispered under his breath, hands sweating and stomach tightening. He yanked a huge manila folder out of one box, leafing through the papers until he saw the document he wanted.

'Certificate of Birth

Name: Laramie Dubois-Kahananui

DOB:...'

Lars felt a strange twist in his gut.

He really _was_ born almost nine years after his mother had written that entry.

This wasn't adding up...

 _'Mom had a baby before me?'_

* * *

 _"Mar, you're never gonna believe where I just was!", Vidalia had grinned as she spoke over the phone._

 _"Jail?", Martie had teased._

 _"Close, but no," Vidalia grinned, "I was in Jick Magher's bus!"_

 _"Holy shit, for real?"_

 _"Yeah! They have a stove installed in the bus. IN the bus!", she laughed eagerly, "I am like, living the ultimate groupie life here."_

 _"You got lucky with him yet?"_

 _"Nah not yet, but I got his jacket. Close enough?"_

 _"Give him the old razzle dazzle, Vi," Martie stuck her tongue out._

 _"Will do. So hey, how are you doing? How's the life of a peace activist going?"_

 _"It's...eventful," Martie summarized, back starting to get sore as she sat on the edge of her motel bed, using the little plastic rotary phone. She glanced at her stomach, face flushed with embarrassment._

 _"So have you got lucky with anyone? Ladies and gents?", Vidalia grinned._

 _"...I've had a few," Martie gave a small laugh, shrugging a bit, then gave a fake yawn, lying, "Hey, I've been on the road all day, and I'm kind of worn out...how about I call you back later...whenever you get back to Beach City?"_

 _"Sure thing," Vidalia nodded, "G'night hippie chick."_

 _"G'night groupie."_

 _Martie just couldn't tell her over the phone like that. Not when Vidalia was so excited about her life and jumping ahead to the carefree lifestyle that Martie just couldn't afford to have right now._

 _It had been about five months since she'd gone to the doctor, and learned she was pregnant. And a month since she'd broken apart from the group she was traveling with, unable to cope with how ill the smoke smell made her, all the constant traveling, and how tired she got._

 _She knew she couldn't keep it, ideally. And she didn't really want to. But it wasn't like she had much choice. She didn't have the money for an abortion, and it wasn't like she could return to Beach City with it. She'd never live it down. Her parents would hate her._

 _She didn't know what she was going to do once it was born. Probably drop it off at a police station. Or in front of some nice house. She just didn't know._

 _She just wasn't ready to be a mother._

* * *

 _When she ran out of money to pay for the motel room after two weeks, Martie didn't have much of a choice about traveling again. For at least a week, she had to go on foot, moving north on the roadside along the highway, hitch-hiking not being as successful as she was hoping. Everyone was just too busy to notice her._

 _Sleeping out in the open was more nerve-wracking than she'd taken it at face value. The weather wasn't an issue at night, in the summer warmth. But it wasn't like she had a tent to cover herself, and she was a pregnant woman traveling alone. An easy target for predators, muggers, and murderers on most accounts. When she did finally settle down to sleep at night under the stars, she'd keep a pocket knife tucked close by._

 _Sometimes, she couldn't really sleep though. And on those nights, she just was left to her thoughts._

 _She thought about her parents sometimes, and wondered if they missed her, if they were anxiously waiting a call home from her._

 _She thought about Vidalia too, how much fun she was probably having getting to be herself without her family breathing down her back, treating her like something to be settled on, to be won, to be possessed. How much exposure to the rock and roll world she was getting, being free and wild and hardcore. It was enviable._

 _Mostly, on these nights, she thought about Laramie. What things might have been like if he were still there._

 _Martie pictured him grinning as he would get his picture taken after graduating from Masters college. She pictured him getting the job he always wanted. She pictured him having a family. His kids would be impossibly cute._

 _It wasn't fair. They were only things that Martie could simply dream of, and know that it would never happen in this lifetime._

 _She still didn't understand why he did it, and probably never would. But she didn't want it to ever happen again to anyone she knew._

* * *

 _After a week of walking on foot, Martie eventually decided to camp at a gas station and truck stop. Her feet were aching beyond measure, and her body was tired._

 _She was down to her last ten dollars. Her body ached for a cigarette, even though she hadn't smoked in months._

 _She bought a pack of Smarties candy instead. She hated them, but somehow, holding them between her fingers made her desire to smoke a little less urgent. She bought three cans of Tab, a can of chips, a box of sugary cereal, and a six pack of aluminum cans of chocolate pudding. She wasn't a big fan of junk food, but her body was deciding it hated itself and wanted to try the weirdest combination of snacks._

 _She was left with a dollar and eighty six cents. She shoved the items in her backpack. She saw the clerk staring at her face, her purchases, then her stomach, and she immediately flipped the sunglasses resting on her head down onto her face. "I'm a pregnant woman, don't question my choices," she remarked quickly as she left, and went out to one of the patio tables set out front, settling in a chair, and pulling out a roll of Smarties, and a can of the pudding and one of the plastic spoons she'd swiped from inside. Sticking the candy roll inbetween her left index and middle fingers, she began to eat, by herself, watching cars come and go from the gas station pumps._

 _This wasn't part of the free life that she had been expecting._

 _After five hours of relaxing in the seat, the sun had already set, leaving the sky pink with dusk, and Martie wondered if there was any way she could just stay in that chair all night. Or sleep under that table and hope nobody bothered her._

 _Just as she was about to kick off her shoes, an older woman, not any younger than forty, had asked Martie if anyone was sitting in the other seat at the table. Martie offered it to her, not intending to pay much attention to her._

 _"Where are you headed?", the woman smiled her._

 _"...I don't know," Martie admitted, "Maybe up to Maine. I've got some friends up there," she remembered some of her hippie crowd mentioning there was some sort of camp for them up there that they could reside at._

 _"Were you heading up to the big anti-war protest?", the woman asked, pulling out her own can of soda that she'd evidently bought from inside._

 _"I didn't even know that was going on," Martie mumbled, "I've been walking along the highway for the last week."_

 _"Do you have much interest in going to it? Judging by the buttons on your shirt, you've had your share of protests."_

 _"Oh, yeah," she laughed awkwardly, blushing a little, "A lot. Have you?"_

 _"Oh you bet," the woman winked, a sparkle in her eye, "Back to when I was probably younger than you," then gestured back to an old beat up car plastered with bumper stickers, "This car and I have seen many a revolution."_

 _"Wow," Martie murmured, gently folding her hands inbetween her chest and her swollen belly, letting them rest there._

 _"How far along are you? If you don't mind my asking?"_

 _Martie thought a moment, "I think almost seven months. I've sort of lost track of time."_

 _"Are you excited to be a mom?"_

 _"Not really. I don't think I can be a mom right now," she admitted._

 _"How old are you?"_

 _"Twenty two," Martie kept her voice soft, a little embarrassed that she was an unwed mother._

 _"You're just a young little thing, aren't you?", the woman spoke with understanding._

 _Martie didn't answer._

 _Without much else to prompt, the woman went into her life, mentioning a dead husband, traveling from California to the east, and spending the last several years going to protests by herself, driving in that car without every trading it in for something bigger._

 _In response, Martie told the woman everything about her life, from ditching college, Laramie, her relationship with Vidalia, with Dee, her travels, and her uncertain future._

 _When they both were done talking, the sun was gone, and the gas station's evening lights were illuminating the area._

 _"I don't have any place I want to travel in particular after this protest up in Maine," the woman admitted, fixing her grayed hair back in a very messy ponytail, "Would you like a ride up there, and any place afterwards?"_

 _Martie grinned, "You'd really do that?"_

 _"From one 'wildflower' to another, we gotta stick together, you know?"_

 _The woman introduced herself as August, and allowed Martie to sleep in the back of her car for the remainder of the night. The following morning, she stirred Martie awake with a styrofoam cup of coffee and a donut she'd bought from inside, and cleared room from her passenger seat so the younger woman could sit._

 _"Welcome to August's Minibus, non smoking section," she teased._

* * *

 _The big protest came and went faster than Martie would have expected, and to her relief. Nobody tried to provoke her, nobody tried to arrest her, and her new companion, August, was always within reach. While there was some rowdiness in the crowd every so often, none of it even got close to putting her in harm's way._

 _She liked August, she had the same easygoing nature that Vidalia did, but she was almost like a mom in a way. Like a mom that Martie could really dig. One who was eager to talk about everything and anything, but was still able to give sage advice for things._

 _At one point on the road, Martie had asked August if she ever had wanted kids._

 _August had admitted that she did. That her husband died before they could have children, and she never remarried. She was in her forties, and living the life Martie could only dream of, being a badass, traveling where she wanted, for the reasons she wanted._

 _But as Martie had sampled, she could only imagine that sometimes, August probably got really lonely._

 _When the month of that woman's namesake rolled around, the car was starting to get a little more touchy than usual. And Martie's energy levels were constantly rising slowly, then dropping like stones. Whenever they were driving, and she wanted to sleep, she'd flip her sunglasses on to signal she wasn't paying attention to August in that moment._

 _One particularly hot day, out of nowhere, the engine sputtered and ceased, right in the middle of a dirt road. Martie woke from a nap to see August was gone, a note left that she was walking to the nearest gas station to call a tow truck, and that she shouldn't move, especially if she was close to her due date._

 _Martie found the heat unpleasant, and removed her shirt before it got too sweaty, leaving her in her bra and skirt that she'd borrowed from August earlier in the week._

 _After several minutes, she began to experience dull pains, and anxiety made her stomach twist even worse, and her entire body grew clammy with sweat._

 _After a whole hour, August still hadn't returned, and Martie was starting to panic, feeling sharp pains every so often, and it made her whole body writhe with discomfort._

 _Part of her wanted to get out of the hot car, and scurry to find a payphone, or a passing driver, or anything, so she wasn't alone._

 _When a particularly bad pain ripped through her body, Martie whimpered, "Baby, stop it-", and that just made it worse, causing her to double over._

 _Tears welled up in her eyes, and she gripped the handle of the car door, wanting to scream, at someone, anyone, even herself._

 _She craned her head up at the rearview mirror, staring herself in the face, and screeched, "You idiot! You fucking idiot!"_

 _Another contraction._

 _"What are you even gonna do when this is all over?!"_

 _The next one felt even worse, and went on even longer, at least minutes. It was enough to make her almost collapse out of the seat, and bust out a sob._

 _"You're gonna kill Dee! That's what!"_

 _When the tow truck finally arrived, August approached the car to check on her companion, ice cold soda to offer, and was shocked to see the girl staring up at her mortified and exhausted and awkwardly holding a wriggling and screaming newborn above her lap in stunned silence._

 _After three minutes of dead silence between the two, Martie finally snapped, fed up,_

 _"Damn it, August! I'm so sick of Sprite! And now there's a whole mess all over the car, and it's too damn hot!"_

 _If August hadn't been so stunned, she would have bust out laughing even faster than she did in five seconds._

* * *

 _"I ended up having the baby in the passenger seat of August's car, all by myself. It was a girl. The tow truck driver cut the cord with a pair of scissors in the cab of his truck. August said she came out nicely, but I don't know. I don't see what people find so cute about babies. Mine isn't much more special._

 _After we got the car fixed, August got me a hotel room so I could rest. I guess I had bordeline heat exhaustion on top of having had a stupidly fast labor and delivery._

 _I've decided I'm going to leave the baby with August. She's been a good friend-mom to me, so I think she'll be a good real-mom to her._

 _I left her a note on her car with the baby in my hotel room...I left my key on the doormat, so she can unlock it once she wakes up and realizes I've left. I told her in the letter that I don't want her to tell the baby about me. And not to come looking for me._

 _I'll be alright. I wasn't ready to be a mom. August has been ready for years._ _"_

Without even thinking, Lars tore that page straight out of the diary, and crumpled it in his fist, and threw the diary at the wall for reasons he just didn't understand.

After taking a minute to breathe, and blink away the feeling of frustrated tears out of his eyes, he shuffled over to the now dented book, and swallowed hard as he uncrumpled the page he'd torn, smoothing it out, sliding it back into place in the book, then turned to the next page.

 _"Maybe I can be a good mom some other time. I hope I do okay then."_

* * *

 **Fun fact, back in the 60s, chocolate pudding was in aluminum cans, not in plastic cups...and Sprite and Tab were invented around that decade...**


	7. The Dreaded Criminal Annette & Janis

_The next few months were a blur. After leaving August at the hotel, Martie had managed to scrounge together enough money for a bus ticket back towards Delmarva. Maybe it was time to swallow her pride, and return home to her parents, and lay low there for a while until she could get back on her feet. She'd endure their grief for a while if it meant she had a place to stay. She didn't have to tell them about everything she'd experienced while out on the road. Especially not the last several months._

 _"Well I'll be! Martie?", someone had piped up when Martie was walking along the boardwalk to make it home._

 _Turning around, Martie beamed as she saw the familiar face, "Barb? It's been forever!"_

 _"You're telling me!", the other laughed, "How've you been? Nobody's seen you in town in forever!"_

 _"I've been on the road," she admitted, "I got a taste of the free life," she snickered, "I'm taking a break from it for a while, and rest these ol' tired feet."_

 _"I get you," Barb winked, "Well, if you let me know your address, I'll be sure to personally deliver your mail!"_

 _"You're a postwoman now?"_

 _"In training," she stuck her tongue out, "Finally got a job that keeps me on the move, and getting to know people, y'know? So what about you? What are you planning to do while you're resting up in town?"_

 _"Mm, probably just look for a chickenfeed job, earn some cash, and hit the road again."_

 _"You gonna go catch up with your girlfriend?", Barb winked._

 _"...Vidalia's in town?"_

 _"Yeah, she's been back for months," Barb grinned, "Didn't she tell ya?"_

 _"I haven't gotten a chance to catch up with her in a while," Martie admitted, "...Life's been hectic." She'd been lucky that she had even been able to call Vidalia from that hotel room months ago, the wild rocker girl having stopped by home for a few days to move her last things out of the place before going on the road again._

 _"Well, here's her address, if you're wanting to go catch up with her," the mailwoman smiled, scribbling on a scrap of paper, slipping it over to her old friend, "She's got some good stories to tell. And I bet you do too."_

 _"Oh, you wouldn't believe," Martie smiled almost tiredly._

* * *

 _Martie skipped visiting her parents, deciding the best way to bypass any awkwardness with them was to see if Vidalia was cool with her crashing there for no more than a week. She was pretty confident she could get her strength and vigor to travel within a few days of being with her old lover._

 _When she approached the house, the first thing she noticed was the van out front in the driveway that had the huge 'Mr. Universe' logo on the front._

 _Who the hell was that? Some cleaning service?_

 _Without even knocking, Martie decided to try the door, and found it was unlocked, walking in, "Hey?"_

 _Footsteps came down from the nearby hallway, and Martie turned to face them._

 _A man with wild long hair screamed in surprise, nearly jumping a foot in the air, "Who the heck are you?!"_

 _"Who the hell are you?!", she screeched back._

 _Vidalia rushed into the hall to see what the commotion was, and stopped in her tracks as she saw her old girlfriend, breaking into an excited grin, rushing over, "Martie!"_

 _"Vi!", Martie grinned, getting wrapped in a tight hug, "I've missed you so much!"_

 _"I know, same!", her voice muffled against the other's shoulder, "You look good for someone who's been on the road for over a year."_

 _"You look terrible!", Martie teased, seeing how messy her hair was, and her wrinkly grubby clothes and her swollen stomach- wait._

 _"Of course I do, I'm pregnant," Vidalia snorted._

 _"Wait- seriously?", Martie's eyes went wide, and she stared at her stomach, then her, then the man standing nearby, then Vidalia again in absolute shock and confusion._

 _"Oh no, he's not part of it," Vidalia assured, pointing to the man, "That's Greg Universe...Mr. Universe," she waved her hands sarcastically, "He's just a friend."_

 _"O-Oh," she whispered, "Wow."_

 _"Yeah. Life gets crazy," Vidalia chuckled softly, "Why don't we get out of this hallway, and go to the kitchen? You like tea?"_

 _Martha didn't even answer, just following behind Vidalia, glancing back to Greg, who gave an awkward wave, walking toward the front door._

 _Sitting at the kitchen table, tea in hand, Vidalia grinned, "So. Tell me what's been going on with you."_

 _"Well," Martie began, "I had a few rough patches on the road, mostly with friends and 'lovers'," she made air quotes._

 _"You got lucky on the road then, eh?", Vidalia smirked._

 _"Hey nobody judges in the back of a van," she snickered, "And you get friendly with people."_

 _"Evidently."_

 _"And evidently, you had your share of fun with people," Martie grinned, pointing to Vidalia's belly._

 _"Well of all the people I was with, the dad wasn't exactly someone I'd call fun," Vidalia stuck her tongue out, "He's a flake."_

 _"Yuck," Martie wrinkled her nose. That was the worst._

 _"But hey, my genes are pretty good, so they'll probably win this war," she grinned._

 _"Best of luck," Martie snickered._

 _"So what are you gonna do now that you're back?"_

 _"Well, I'm not back for long," Martie smiled with confidence, "I just came back to rest my feet a little...maybe now we've got some time to catch up, you know?"_

 _"Maybe," Vidalia smiled, taking another sip of tea._

 _"Maybe...you could join me this time?"_

 _Vidalia's smile disappeared a little, and she looked at her lap, "I don't know if that's really a good idea, Mar. I think I should stay here a while, and make sure my baby turns out OK, y'know?"_

 _"Are you really keeping it?", Martie asked, almost in disbelief._

 _"Uh yeah, what else do you think I'd do?"_

 _"I don't know, I just never saw you as a mom-"_

 _"Well you don't know everything, Mar. No offense, but when you get pregnant maybe you'll understand the sacrifices I'm making. I haven't had coffee or a cigarette in months and it sucks-"_

 _Martie opened her mouth to snap back a snarky response that she was very well aware of what pregnancy could do, she'd gone through it already, that she went through hell just to have a baby she wasn't even keeping, but somehow, there was the tugging feeling that Vidalia was going to ask where her baby was to begin with._

 _Vidalia, the unbreakable wild woman, was accepting the role as a mother, and Martie hadn't. What did that make her?_

 _"So...where'd you meet Greg?", she decided to change the subject._

 _"So uh...baby daddy was his manager, and I met him after one of his concerts. We just sort of hung out after that, and now he's just sort of helping me keep from going totally nuts, y'know?"_

 _"Oh, yeah," Martie mumbled, sipping her tea, hearing Vidalia begin to recall her adventures with Mr. Universe, how stupid and sweet he was, and how helpful he was with getting Vidalia ready to raise a baby herself, and how much less lonely she was with him as a friend._

 _"You'll get a laugh out of this," Vidalia snickered, "Baby daddy's named Marty. "_

 _"No kidding," the hippie girl's voice died in her throat, giving a small smile. Her stomach was in a knot._

 _"So how soon are you back on the road?", Vidalia asked._

 _"...Y'know, I think I have a friend coming through town tonight. I might be crashing in their VW," she lied, "So I can kill two birds with one stone, get some rest on the road."_

 _"Makes sense," Vidalia smiled, getting up to pour herself more tea._

 _Martie pulled out a cigarette, and the other frowned, "Hey uh, could you like, do that outside? I kind of want my kid to not get sick, y'know?"_

 _"Oh," Martie's voice was raw, and soft, and she nodded, "Sorry", and went out of the kitchen, and out the front door, holding her cigarette in one hand, and the lighter in another._

 _Mr. Universe was sitting on the rear bumper of his van, strumming on a guitar, singing under his breath. He looked up when Martie came out onto the driveway, and awkwardly gave a hello._

 _Martie pretended not to notice him, more invested in her cigarette._

 _Vidalia didn't need her anymore, she had Mr. Universe, and she had her new baby to look forward to. She had her new lifestyle, and there just wasn't any compromise that would fit Martie in without trouble._

 _Three was a crowd after all._

 _Fuck._

 _Martie stomped the cigarette into the driveway, and grabbed her duffel bag that she'd left on the porch, walking down the driveway again, and as she reached the street, turned around, and gave a distasteful look to a confused Greg, "Your van is the ugliest car I've ever seen."_

* * *

 _"This is like...the weirdest sense of identity shifting I've ever felt," Martie admitted in a soft voice as she sat in the small circle._

 _The picture on the license, all three of the licenses actually, newly printed, were hers, but the name was different on each._

 _'Annette Wallace'_

 _'Mary Lightfoot'_

 _'Moni Jitchell'_

 _"Remember," the leader of the group pointed, "Don't lose these. They protect your identity, but if the cops grab a hold of them, they can just as easily catch you under that name."_

 _"Right," Martie mumbled, pocketing them._

 _After leaving Vidalia's place, Martie had hoofed it to the old barn she'd used as a secret hiding place as a teenager, and spent a few nights in there sleeping and cursing herself, eventually returning to town, and making contact with an old hippie friend from college who had joined another group of friends who were invested in 'really making a change to things, to get a message across.'_

 _The idea was pretty daring, a stealth mission, to break into the governor's house, to express their frustration with the status of their government, to call out the unfairnesses, and the problems plaguing their state._

 _"That old geezer's been cracking down on us trying to get us in jail for drugs, but has been making money through our work and our suffering all his life," one of them muttered._

 _"Wasting that money," another added._

 _"On building more smoggy factories and cutting down trees for parking lots..."_

 _"We can't let him get away with that."_

 _"Oh absolutely not," Martie nodded, clenching her fists. This is what she had been waiting for back in high school. Really living life on the edge, and really really making a difference. And really getting her name out there._

 _Late that night, they all met up outside the gate of the mansion, dressed in black, and went over the plan once more before they climbed over, and rushed up to the house, using a screwdriver to unlatch a decorative window right near the dining room, just as the diagram of the house the leader procured had shown._

 _As soon as they all got inside, they began to quietly move about and plant their prepared posters all over the walls, using cans of spray paint to mark symbols of peace and revolution all over the windows and carpet._

 _They had smoke bombs, lighting the fuses, and hurling them under couches and tables, and on the staircase._

 _After throwing one in a hallway, Martie stiffened up as she heard rapid footsteps thundering down the hall, and a large shape breaking through the smoke, causing her to scream in surprise._

 _A large friendly collie dog licked her cheek after they had tackled her to the floor, and barked loudly and eagerly to see a new face, and Martie had to haul them off, and scurry back to the group, their leader exclaiming they had to go, that someone had seen them sneaking into the mansion, and the cops were already on their way._

 _Unfortunately, the smoke made everything hard to see, and they had trouble finding their way out of the mansion._

 _Martie groaned, already hearing the police sirens. They weren't going to get bailed out of jail so easily for something like this._

 _A cold wet nose pressed against her hand, and she looked down in the smoke to see the dog happily looking up at her._

 _"Look, I don't have time to play-" she grumbled to them, but then trailed off, getting an idea._

 _"Hey! Want to go for a walk? Let's go for a walk!"_

 _Almost like a speeding bullet, the dog was rushing into the smoke, then rushing back to her, as if to lead her to the door to get out, so eager to get walked by this nice lady and her friends!_

 _Martie shouted at the group to follow her, and she raced after the dog, and soon kicked the door open, yelping as she saw the cop cars pulling in, and quickly ran for their getaway van that was parked nearby, the driver ready to go. Leaping into the back, Martie yelped as she felt something land on her back, and rolled over, finding herself covered in dog._

 _One of the members of her group snapped at her to get the dog out, but the driver screeched they could worry about that later, flooring the gas as soon as everyone had gotten in, and the vehicle was now crowded with one extra member, a hostage, albeit a happy hostage that was eager to get out of that house._

 _The news reported the break in and vandalism on television that next day, reporting how heartbroken the governor was at the kidnapping of his beloved 'Boopy'._

 _"Well no fucking wonder you wanted to leave," Martie had laughed to the dog that was settled beside her that next morning as the van had parked for coffee and breakfast at a truck stop, "That was a horrible name for you. We'll settle for something more current, ok, Janis?"_

* * *

Lars gave a smirk as he looked at the stack of worn out IDs, all of them with his mother's face, different names on each, packing them back in the box, and an old dog collar, the metal tag having been blacked out with 'JANIS' written over the original engravings.

 _"I'm still missing one of my IDs, the Annette one..."_ her journal read under a poor doodle of a dog (Lars knew his mom was never a good artist), _"I'm fearing when Janis first knocked me over, it fell out of my pocket. But maybe it just got lost in the van."_

Lars looked in the box again for the particular ID, he saw no sign of it.

Part of him wondered if there was still some sort of wanted poster out there, in some post office, his mother's face on it, promising a reward for the capture of the dreaded middle aged Annette Wallace for the heinous crime of stealing a dog unfortunately named Boopy.


	8. How Dante's Perfect Record Got Ruined

_Mr. and Mrs. Kahananui couldn't have been any prouder of their son._

 _Dante had always been a bright boy. Eager and ambitious in everything he did. He always did so well with his schoolwork, hardly ever missing an assignment. He kept to a regular schedule, and stayed diligent. His teachers praised him eagerly, using him as an example in classes of an ideal student._

 _He'd been president of chess club in high school, even going to state finals for chess competitions. He hadn't won, but he was quite an honorable challenger, and it was something agreed upon by everyone._

 _He wasn't an athlete, but that was alright. He was a smart boy, and when it came time to apply for colleges, his options were pretty promising. They couldn't have been any more ecstatic when he was accepted to his first choice and offered the best scholarship he could get. His future was bright, and it looked like it could only get brighter from here on out._

 _His record in high school had basically been spotless, and he intended to have the same result in college. Perfect grades, perfect assignments, perfect attendance- he was pretty diligent about keeping those prioritized._

 _Maybe it really wasn't worth getting arrested though._

 _During his third year of his masters degree, following an unexpected car repair and the normal traffic to be expected from his apartment to campus, Dante realized he was going to be late for class, and drove a little bit faster than normal, and in his rush, didn't notice the red light, or the stop sign. And he certainly didn't notice the cop car behind him the entire time._

 _"Officer, you don't understand! I have to keep my perfect attendance record, it's my junior year!", he yelped as he was getting walked to the holding cell._

 _"Should have thought about that before committing that many traffic violations," the cop replied dryly, shoving him into the holding cell._

 _"Nonono...", Dante groaned, knowing he was already 15 minutes late by now. So much for a spotless record. He'd have to call his roommate to get bailed out, and then probably pay the fines he'd been charged with. Oh, his parents would be so disappointed in him._

 _After twenty minutes of wallowing in despair, Dante was shaken from his thoughts by the angry shouting of a woman who was getting marched down the hall, snapping that she knew her rights, and 'the guy wasn't even that hurt!'_

 _They opened the door to Dante's cell, and unceremoniously shoved her in, and slammed the gate shut._

 _"MotherFUCKER!", Martie swore, pounding her fist in frustration on the bars before huffing, turning on her heel and stomping over to the wall, sinking down to sit against it. After ten seconds of glaring ahead, she casually turned her head to Dante, "So what are you in for?"_

 _"Uh-"_

 _"These assholes let the most pigfaced shitheads get off scot free for hassling women and people speaking for peace, but the minute you smack a guy for trying to grab your boob, you're in cuffs! It's bullshit!", she cursed, cleaning her sunglasses on her shirt, "Y'dig man?"_

 _"I'm just-"_

 _"Did those fuckers manhandle you too much? You oughta sue them. I know a guy, real good lawyer, he works cheap too. I'll give you his dealer's name, and he can give you his landlord's address, and then his landlord can tell you which bar he's at that night, and then the bartender can tell you which cab he took to get home, so you can get that same driver and address, and you can meet up with him there and talk to him when he wakes up. Real easy guy to talk to."_

 _"I-"_

 _"So how many drugs did they catch you with? What kind? Can I have some?"_

 _"No!", Dante gasped incredulously, "I mean, no, I don't have any drugs! This is all a big misunderstanding, I don't belong in here!"_

 _"None of us do, Jack," Martie cooed, "I certainly don't. I got a dog to go feed, she's probably aching for a Big Kahuna burger, and the chick who's watching her while I'm in here is a strict vegetarian. That diet ain't my bag, y'know, I gotta eat real food. Probably something from growing up with French-Jew parents, we're big on cooking and good eating, right?"_

 _"Look I really don't-"_

 _"So here's the plan, David," she got in close, whispering to him, "These bars here are the most hollow kinds of metal you can use. If you have a lighter, you basically can melt right through it. Now they usually search ya for junk when you get in here, but I- hold on a second," she grunted as she buried her hands into her hair, pulling out a bobby pin from her hair, a lighter glued to it, "They never think to look in hair. I'm gonna melt these bars over on this side here, to get into that empty cell next to us. It's the only blindspot in this cell, y'see?"_

 _"Miss, can you please not-"_

 _Martie was already in action, snapping at him, "Hey chatterbox, let a lady work, alright?"_

 _Dante tried to speak up again, but knowing this strange woman wasn't going to let him get a word in edgewise, sighed and ran a hand through his dark curls. He decided he was just going to ignore her and he turned to face the other direction of the cell._

 _Just as he thought he had a moment to his own thoughts, he was grabbed by the arm, and felt himself getting yanked backwards, "What the-?!"_

 _"C'mon Jonny!", Martie goaded, "We're bustin' out of here!"_

 _"We?!", he yelped, "M'am this isn't right! This is illegal, we have to-!"_

 _"Keep it down, buddy!", she snapped, and ran down the hall, through the station lobby, and right out the front door, still dragging a frazzled Dante with a surprising amount of strength._

 _At one point, she shouted something he couldn't understand, and she let go of his hand and turned a corner. He stumbled that direction, and as soon as he followed her steps, there was no sign of her. A VW van suddenly swerved around the corner, speeding by, and he swore he could see her in the passenger seat, waving at him._

 _Before he could even wonder what just happened, he was suddenly tackled to the ground, and hauled back towards the police station, tossed into another cell._

 _Five more frustrating hours, he was able to get a call into his roommate, and after getting laughed at on the phone, he was flabbergasted to hear that he couldn't be bailed out by him until two days from then, since he was about to head out of town to see his parents._

 _Dante wanted to scream into his hands, and begged the guard for leniency, that he could pay all the fines once he could get out, but no dice._

 _What was he going to tell his parents over the phone? That he was arrested? Twice?_

 _Around one in the morning, he was still sleepless, but so exhausted, when he heard his cell's door getting opened, he almost screamed, but a hand covered his mouth._

 _"Shh!", Martie hissed, "Don't let them see you!", and yanked him out of the hall again, out the door once more. Instead of letting go of his hand, she dragged him all the way down the street, and to the same car she'd escaped in earlier, and shoved him in, "I saw them nab you again, figured I oughta help you out."_

 _"You-!", he suddenly glared, "You better get me home right now."_

 _"Don't worry, Moose, we'll get you there as soon as we-"_

 _"My name is Dante," he glared, gripping onto the seat as the car sped down the street, "And thanks to you, I have two arrests on my record!"_

 _"Woah, hey, don't thank me until you get to five, alright?", she waved it off._

 _"Five?!", he sputtered, and gripped at his own hair again, almost tearing a few strands out, "I just- broke my perfect record!", he hissed in frustration with himself._

 _"So?"_

 _"So it's not perfect anymore!", he groaned._

 _"Mine never was to begin with," she shrugged._

 _"Big surprise," Dante muttered under his breath, "Look, I live north of here in the townhouses, if you could just drop me off there as soon as possible, I'd-"_

 _"We'll get you home, don't worry," she cut him off, "We just got a few stops to make," then shouted up to the driver, asking how much 'Mick' had 'raised his prices', and cursed when the driver responded back 'thirty percent'. She shelled out some bills from a black metal toolbox, and muttered under her breath until the van slowed to a stop outside a house. Martie hopped out, telling Dante to wait there, and walked around the back of the building. After a few minutes, she was walking back over to the van, and hopped in, stuffing a paper bag under the passenger seat, and then pulled out a pack of cigarettes, slipping one in her mouth, and holding the carton out to Dante, "Want one?"_

 _"No thank you!", he frowned, "Just take me home, please."_

 _"We will," she assured, rolling her eyes._

 _"Well could you do it soon? I have class tomorrow!"_

 _"Sheesh calm down, it's only 2 AM."_

 _"2 AM?! I go to bed at 10:00!"_

 _"Wow," she whistled in mock amazement._

 _At the next stop, she opened the back door to the van, and called out to someone standing outside a convenience store, "Cecelia! You're breaking my heart! You were supposed to gimme the dog back after I busted out! It's been seven hours what the fuck?!"_

 _The person laughed, and Dante suddenly noticed the dog that had been leashed to a bike rack on the sidewalk, and the person untied the dog, who immediately ran for the open door of the van._

 _"W-wait, I'm allergic to dogs!", Dante yelped._

 _"Janis!", Martha cheered happily, greeting the dog with open arms, letting herself get jumped on, "Who's my girl?!"_

 _The dog barked loudly, making Dante cringe, and wagged her tail, letting it thump audibly against a seat._

 _"Did that stupid Cecelia not buy you any dinner? You poor baby!", she held the dog's face in her hands, and shouted out the van window before it took off, "Hey, Cece, y'asshole! Bagels don't count as dog food! Janis ain't a veggie dog!"_

 _Dante was resisting the urge to sneeze violently, hiding his face in his shirt, "Please tell me next stop is home-"_

 _"Nope, not yet," Martie clicked her tongue, letting Janis flop in her lap, "Me and the pup gotta eat." Three years on the road with this dog had been more entertaining than any time on the road before that._

 _The van pulled up to a fast food joint, open 24 hours, and Martie hopped out, taking Janis with her. The driver reclined his seat back, and rest his eyes, not caring that Dante was still in the car._

 _"...Where in town even is this?", Dante decided to ask, wondering if he could make a walk home from here._

 _"I dunno."_

 _"Well gee. Thanks."_

 _After sulking in the van for about ten minutes, Martie and her dog returned with a bag of food. Pulling out a couple burgers, Martie looked up to Dante, "Want some of this?"_

 _"No. I just want to go home," he grumbled._

 _"Someone's a grumpy grandpa," she puckered her lips at him, unwrapping the burger and put it on the floor, the dog immediately wolfing it down._

 _"Gee. Wonder why that is," he glared, and avoided looking at her._

 _There was one more stop, at a Rite-Aid, and all Martie came back with was brownie mix and butter. Weird._

 _Eventually, to Dante's relief, the van pulled up at the entrance gate to the townhouses, and he was quick to climb out. If he was lucky, he could get to sleep before 4 AM, and have at least three hours to actually rest._

 _"Thanks for getting me out of jail," Dante admitted, "And for finally getting me back home."_

 _"Sure thing," she drew another breath of smoke, "I'm Martie by the way."_

 _"...Okay."_

 _"See you around, Donald."_

 _"It's Dante."_

 _"Right," she smiled, and shut the van door, and the van sped out of sight._

 _Dante knew he'd have to be crazy if he was going to let himself get roped into another convoluted misadventure with that woman ever again._


	9. Myopia

_Just as Dante thought life was back to normal, and his slate had been cleaned, he unexpectedly made eye contact with the red-haired force of chaos who had smudged his clean record and gave him enough exhaustion for days._

 _He groaned, and immediately tried to turn heel as she cheerfully called out his name, leading her dog over._

 _"Donny! It's been like, two weeks, was it? How you been?", she approached him with lightning speed._

 _"Great," he gritted through his teeth, "What are you doing here?"_

 _"Uh, obviously engorging my mind with the nourishment of government sanctioned education,"she spoke sarcastically, pulling out a student ID, "See?"_

 _He squinted at it, "Wait a second- that's not even your name on it! You faked an ID?", he sounded disapproving._

 _"Well, of course," she snorted, "How else was I gonna go undercover here?"_

 _"Undercover?", he hissed, aghast._

 _"We're organizing student protests here," she winked, "If we didn't have student status here, we wouldn't be able to stay on campus this long," she looked down to her dog, "Isn't that right, Janis?"_

 _The dog barked excitably, and not even heeding Dante's annoyed look, Martie pointed out, "Good thing your campus is pet friendly, I don't have to leave my girl with that crazy veggo-nut."_

 _"Yeah. Peachy," he rubbed his forehead, "Well, I'm going to class."_

 _"Which one?"_

 _"Statistics. I think you'd be much happier out here with your-"_

 _"Hey now, statistics is a thing I aced back when I was doin' college! Lemme check it out!"_

 _"Please don't-", Dante groaned under his breath, but the girl was already off like a bullet, chattering excitably, and now Dante was just ready for the day to get over with._

 _He opted to sit as far away from her as possible , moving to the front row of seats while she had rushed to the back row. He managed to ignore her throughout the class, and once class was over, he was quick to leave, so she wouldn't find out where his next class, plant science, was. With her history, she'd probably bring some sort of inappropriate vibe to that class._

 _To his relief, he didn't see her for the rest of the day. The next day in class, however, there was a test, and she had plopped herself a few seats away from him. He groaned, and did his best to ignore her, filling out all the answers on his exam as neatly as possible, even completing the extra credit questions at the end. When he'd gotten up to hand in his test, he saw Martie was already headed out the door, her exam in the turn in pile._

 _When Friday came, and results were listed on the wall, Dante was surprised to see, next to the fake name she'd been using, a grade of 98%._

 _Unexpected. But not bad. But not entirely believable. Had she copied off another person's test? While sitting in between two students who had gotten lower grades, probably not._

 _Okay, so maybe this woman was smarter than he took her for._

 _It wasn't like she could do much with the grade while riding on that fake ID._

* * *

 _Once classes were complete for the day, Dante headed off campus, ignoring the small protest Martie and her friends were occupied with, driving home to his apartment._

 _As soon as he had gotten home, he made a schedule for the weekend to figure out when he would work on his assignments, and then some. He wasn't much of a social person like his roommate, he wasn't big on parties, he didn't care for bars, and late nights just left him grumpy most of the time._

 _Switching on the television, he was pleased to see his favorite program was five minutes away, and took the time to grab himself a snack. He liked these times when he could be alone._

 _Just as he was about to take a bite of his peanut butter sandwich, the buzzer to the door was ringing, and he rolled his eyes, wondering if Bobby, his roommate, forgot his key again. Holding the sandwich in his mouth, he went to answer the door, unimpressed._

 _The second he opened the door, he groaned, seeing Martie's expectant face, "Hey, man!", she greeted, "Bobby said this was your guys' place. Glad I got the address right."_

 _"Wait, you know him?", Dante pulled the sandwich out of his mouth, a little frazzled to see her inviting herself in, kicking her shoes off and rubbing her dusty bare feet on the shag carpet that was going to take forever to clean._

 _"Oh yeah, I know Bobby," she stretched out her back until she heard a satisfying crack, "He went to the protests yesterday and today. Real cool guy."_

 _"Oh great, there's two of you," Dante muttered under his breath, "Look, Bobby isn't here, so maybe you could come back later and-"_

 _"Oh, he told me he wasn't gonna be here," she gave a thumbs up, "He said I could hang here anyway. Use your guys' kitchen and stuff."_

 _"For?"_

 _"I was gonna bake some brownies!", she announced eagerly, "Brought my own ingredients. Just needed the oven."_

 _He gave a disapproving look, but sighed, "Alright. Sure. Knock yourself out. "_

 _He settled back on his couch, intent to ignore whatever she was doing in the kitchen, but within thirty seconds of sitting down, she was poking her head out, "Hey does your oven automatically preheat? Or do you need to light anything?"_

 _"No," he rolled his eyes, "It works like any other oven, it's all manual."_

 _"Well hey, last oven I used, I had to light these little coils in the bottom of it. And my oven growing up was like that too."_

 _"Really," he spoke, hardly faking interest, "Have you not lived anywhere for ten years or so?"_

 _"Eh, three's more like it," she shrugged, walking back into the kitchen, "I haven't been back home to my folks' town in years, the most I've 'lived' in an honest to god house is probably a month and a half. The rest is on the road, on foot, or in hotels, y'know?"_

 _"...how old are you?", he was failing at ignoring her, much to his chagrin._

 _"I turned 25 last month, what about you, curly?", she called from the kitchen._

 _"24," he muttered._

 _"Weird!", she laughed, "You seem a lot older."_

 _"...why?"_

 _"I dunno," she shrugged, walking out of the kitchen, suddenly squatting on her knees, pouting and crossing her arms, "Probably because you do this all the time," she mimicked him, "I'm Dante."_

 _"That's not funny," he grumbled, and glanced back at the TV again, "Go bake your brownies, Martie."_

 _"Will do!", she gave a thumbs up, walking back in the kitchen._

 _"...Is that even your real name?"_

 _"Course it is!", she singsonged._

 _"If I were to look in your wallet right now, would there be a legitimate driver's license with 'Martie' on it?"_

 _"If you were to look in my wallet, I'd break your wristbones, buddy," she answered without skipping a beat, "Anyway, I keep my ID in my bra-"_

 _"What?!", Dante yelped, "Why?!"_

 _"Hey, it pays to have a flat chest," she bragged, "Then this thing acts like an extra pocket. And sometimes it's great to keep snacks in-"_

 _"Okay, thank you for that needless information", he cut her off, "Is it short for anything?"_

 _"Nah, it's not short for anything, it just makes a boring name more fun."_

 _"Boring?"_

 _" Martha is like, a name for dinosaurs," she retched._

 _"I think that's a fine name."_

 _"You'd probably think a pencil pouch is fine, no offense," she snorted, and then whatever else she was saying was drowned out by the noise of an electric mixer._

 _Five minutes later, Martie walked in wiping her hand on her pants, "They take thirty minutes in your oven," she announced, and flopped on the couch, her long legs folded over the arm of the couch while she lay on her back, looking at the TV, "Whatcha watching?"_

 _"Cosmic Kidd generation II," he mumbled, fixing his glasses on his face, "You probably don't-"_

 _"Man, I grew up watching Cosmic Kidd when it first was on the TV! My brother was nuts about that cartoon."_

 _"Well this is the live action version, it has more nuance and story to it-"_

 _"Hey now, the cartoons were badass!", she pointed at the air, "He got to five different galaxies with his crew!"_

 _"He gets to six in this one. And they get more story in the thirty minutes of this version than they did with the fifteen minute cartoons."_

 _"Fair enough," she shrugged, looking at the TV, "Yeah...I've seen episodes of this, or parts of 'em. Most of the televisions I've gotten to use the last few years only have a total of maybe two channels. This one's gotta be deluxe, right?"_

 _"It's good enough I suppose. Bobby only uses it to watch sports matches."_

 _"Yeah, my buddies and I usually just watch the news, to figure out where our next place of protest would be."_

 _"Doesn't that get tiring?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"Protesting all the time? Going to jail?"_

 _"Hey, I'm not in jail right now, and I'm not holding up a sign right now am I?"_

 _"Well you can't really see yourself doing those things up until you're old, can you?"_

 _"Hey, if things get better in the future man, then hopefully I don't have to do this stuff until I'm old," she smiled, and watched the television._

 _Dante glanced her, then took another bite of his sandwich._

 _He still didn't understand this woman._

* * *

 _"You got another high grade in statistics this week," he'd spoken up._

 _"What about it?", she'd asked, mouth full of brownie as she sat on the top of the back cushion of the couch._

 _"You got 98% last week. This week you got basically the same."_

 _That following Friday after Martie had invaded Dante's apartment to use his oven then leave, she'd returned to do the same thing, but once she'd finished making a batch of brownies, she didn't abruptly leave this time, and was still on his couch, watching the sci-fi marathon, and helped herself to one of the brownie's she'd made, and left out on a plate. Dante wasn't going to touch them._

 _"Well like I said, I aced stats back in college," she shrugged, "That's no surprise."_

 _"You dropped out of college though-", he began, "If you were doing so well in your classes you could have-"_

 _"It just wasn't my bag, man. None of it was really something I wanted to do all my life you know?"_

 _"But you're so smart, why did you go and-", he slapped his forehead, "How could you be so smart and be like..."_

 _"Like?", she prompted, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye._

 _"This!", he gestured to her with both hands, "You don't care about school, you don't have a job, you just smoke weed, crash on couches, and travel in a van-"_

 _"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there-," she gave an unimpressed look._

 _"I don't understand you!", he spoke with frustration, throwing his hands up._

 _"But here you're going off and making all these assumptions about me, man," she frowned, looking stern, "You don't know half of the shit I grew up with and went through, what I experienced in just the last year," she looked at her own hands, "I mean, y'think I woke up with all this education under my belt and decided one day I just didn't want to do that anymore? That I was just like "Hey, man, fuck this, I'm gonna be like this all day every day!" ? Fuck no, man, I went through a lot of personality and paradigm shifts to get here, and I'm not done changin', y'know? Nobody is! You probably didn't come out of your mom a genius, did you?"_

 _"Well, no I-" he began._

 _"For all I know, you were a dumbass growing up! I dunno! It's not my place to judge, and it's not anyone else's!"_

 _She then pointed at Dante with a half eaten brownie in her hand, "And even if you don't 'understand' me or anyone else who you think is like me, where in the hell do you think it gives you the right to take it out on me?"_

 _As Dante tried to find the words to respond, Martie sighed, looking more tired than she ever had, "I think I'd better go. It's already getting late for you-"_

 _"Wait-", Dante stammered out, catching her by her arm as she got off the couch, "I- I'm sorry. I don't...I'm not good with talking to people. I didn't mean it like that...I just wish I knew how to understand other people."_

 _"Well...for starters," she rolled her eyes, sitting on the arm of the couch, "Treat people like people, and less like things beaming down from Mars. And second, you could tell me more about you. I don't bite."_

 _With the soft noise of the tv in the background, for the next two hours, the two conversed freely about their lives, answering questions without any intense interrogation._

 _Dante told her about growing up with lack of money and in a rough neighborhood._

 _She told him about Laramie._

 _He told her how sorry he was about her losing him. He never wanted to experience that._

 _She told him she was glad she saw him get himself out of a shitty situation. He was tough in his own regard._

 _He told her about his attempt to go to his senior prom one year, and shying up before he could ask the girl he admired as his date._

 _She told him about Vidalia._

 _He told her about how he got bullied by the same kids he tried to tutor._

 _She didn't tell him about August or the baby she left with her._

 _He told her he had no idea what drugs were like, and didn't really want to._

 _She said that was fine._

 _He took a brownie, and ate it. He ate another without Martie knowing. She stopped him on his third._

 _And then he woke up the next morning on his couch, the TV static buzzing dully, and he felt around for his glasses, but they were nowhere on his face, or his chest, or the floor._

 _Martie was comfortably squished between him and the back of the couch, sleepily bidding him good morning, wearing his glasses, thanking him for letting her use his head as a pillow._

 _Dante, still too tired to be embarrassed at the unexpected cuddling, was relieved they were both clothed, and asked for his glasses back._

 _She was about to return them until she got a good look at his face, looking amazed._

 _"Have you always been this not-blurry? Because holy shit, I can see the pores on your face."_

 _"...Martha, are you sure you don't need glasses?"_

 _"Motherfucking shit I dont."_


	10. Martha My Dear

**Chapter Content Warning: Minor mentions of animal death**

* * *

 _Thanks to Dante helping make phone calls and letters, Martie was able to transfer all her completed credits from her years she had completed back in college, to help her at least obtain some sort of degree after attending more classes at the same school Dante was attending. It meant she'd have to compromise and attend a few less protests and rallies, but she was alright with it._

 _Her friends weren't willing to stay on campus as long as she was, so when they informed her they would be leaving town, with or without her, she realized she'd need a place to stay. Dante admitted he didn't use his couch very often. He could get used to sometimes seeing her asleep on it in the mornings, snoring as she was splayed under a blanket, Janis sound asleep on top of her._

 _Dante, or at least his immune system, was still not all-accepting of the dog in his apartment, but so long as Martie kept them out of his room, he'd tolerate it. After all, whenever he was in class, and she wasn't, he could only imagine how bored and lonely she got sometimes._

 _He knew how hard it was for her to decline the offer to travel on the road again with her friends. To instead settle with him while he pursued his masters and she at least pursued the ability to say she finished school._

 _She chose him. Over everything else. He'd always be appreciative of that._

 _Neither of them really ever could pinpoint when they had transitioned from friendship to something in the realm of dating. Before they'd really considered each other anything other than a close friend, they'd been quite cuddly with each other. But that was probably just the weed. And the fact that Martie was very affectionate to everyone who she considered a friend._

 _He liked how fun she tried to make things for him. How she lived life with a little more spontaneity than other people he knew. She pulled him out of his comfort zone, but never prevented him from going back in it. He decided drugs weren't his thing. She was okay with that. She still smoked her cigarettes outside on the fire escape, and shared her brownies with friends._

 _They never really had a first date. There just had been instances where one would invite the other to do something outside of the apartment, and they would come back late in the evening. On some occasions, nothing happened. On others, there was kisses and other affectionate gestures. On one instance, they'd slept together, his first time, and Martie still ended up returning to her place on the sofa, a situation that left Dante absolutely confused for weeks._

 _She always complained that he never called her by her nickname, only on a few occasions. He found it too informal._

 _Eventually, she found it endearing._

 _After graduating, they'd talked about finding another place of their own to live, some place cheaper until they both had jobs. Martha wasn't too eager on tackling that, but for Dante's sake, she did. Only on the conditions it not be for a factory or something that benefited the things she'd protested against over the years. Fair enough._

 _Eventually, she'd taken his invitation to move off the couch, and to sharing a bed with him._

* * *

 _Their second place together wasn't a place they could stay for very long, it was a place for rent, at most for six months. There were still boxes stacked in storage, they didn't even put out any decorations in the place._

 _At least there was a bed._

 _Martha eventually relented, and got herself a pair of glasses, replacing the violet lenses in her sunglasses with soda bottle lenses, and it was a relief that she could stop sprinting across the street to read large posters whenever she was out. Dante told her he was just glad he didn't have to worry about her going blind and wandering into traffic. She'd shoved him off the couch, spilling popcorn everywhere._

 _She still went to protests, but she didn't travel for weeks on end for them. The most she'd been gone from Dante since they'd moved in together was four days, and it was to visit her ailing parents in Beach City, for closure._

 _They'd discussed moving there, for sake of job opportunities. Martha knew there was a pretty decent housing market there, they could find some place to call home there eventually._

 _About three weeks before they'd decided on a house, Janis, old and stiff legged, had settled on her favorite spot on the couch one last time, and just never woke up. Martha had cried all day. Dante hated to see her so sad. He'd offered to help her get another dog in spite of allergies. She didn't want another dog. Janis hadn't just been a dog, she'd been a lingering piece of her wilder life, and now that she was gone, it was a sign it was time to settle down further._

 _Martha had laughed through her tears after they buried her old friend that she would have to call and give the Governor the bad news._

 _Months after the move, Martha had found a job under a housekeeping service. It irritated her to think she'd be having to possibly get humiliated or ordered around by slightly wealthier people, but it paid well. And eventually she could get a better job, she figured._

 _Dante worked at a software programming company. Computers were a new thing these days, but his skills proved useful to the business. He took pride in that._

 _When they weren't at their jobs, and weren't exhausted from the day, the two would go out, either to walk on the beach, to wander the town, or to even drive somewhere to be together. Or they would stay home, and make use of their couch or their bed, and not leave it for hours._

 _Dante had gotten Martha a cat on their third anniversary together. The animal hated everyone and everything except the redhead._

 _"Good. Fight the power", she had whispered to the animal, who she named Malvina. Dante wanted to know where the hell she was getting these ideas for names. Wasn't 'Fluffy' a good enough name for a cat?_

 _"Fluffy is a shit name," she'd answered back._

 _Eventually, one evening, he'd introduced Martha to his parents. Things had gone smoothly up until her history had been brought up, and the two parents had waited until Martha left the room to privately discuss things with their son, voicing their concerns. She was a lovely woman, yes, but what if she was a step away from becoming a full blown drug addict? What if she had more criminal charges? Illegitimate children?_

 _Dante told them Martha had seen hell and visited more than once, and made it back with fearlessness on each trip. He'd be there to greet her when she returned._

 _He wanted to keep her._

 _When Martha had returned, she told Dante she wasn't feeling well, and needed to go home._

 _Dante had been silent the entire drive home, too deep in thought to notice his girlfriend's concerned expression._

* * *

 _"So I have something to talk about."_

 _"You're kidding, so do I," Martha teased softly as she rest on the couch having done so at Dante's insistence once they'd gotten home from his parents'. They'd both been silent in thought for at least two hours._

 _"How important is it?"_

 _"Really important."_

 _"Same," he nodded._

 _"How about we both talk on the count of three?", Martha suggested, sitting up a little on the couch to look at him as he sat on the floor next to her._

 _"Alright. Three," he confirmed, reaching for her hands._

 _"One."_

 _"Two."_

 _'Wait, Dante, you hate odd numbers. Four. Say it on four,' he thought to himself._

 _"Three."_

 _"Four." "I'm pregnant."_

 _"Will you-", Dante cut himself off, paused, stuttering in shock, "Y-you're...?", then cursed, "Damn it, Martha!"_

 _"What?!", she almost looked panicked, "Look, it was an accident okay?! I took a little test at your parents' place, and it was positive! It was probably from that night in the van at that music festival two months ago, where you put your shirt on backwards and-"_

 _"No not that!," he looked angry, "You stole my thunder!"_

 _"I did what?!"_

 _"How can I ask if you want to get married without it now sounding like it's a shotgun wedding?!", he yelped sounding sincerely worried, "I mean I know your parents are dead now but MY parents are going to be breathing down my back until we die, that I didn't wait until marriage to- well you know! How can I ask you now?!"_

 _Martha stared at him in shock, then began to laugh and cry at the same time, "Dante, oh my god, you-", and flopped against him, kissing his stupid adorable face, wiping her eyes, "I think you just did. And it's a yes."_

 _"O-oh...ok!", he flushed with relief, returning all the kisses he was receiving._

 _After the initial shock had worn off for both of them, Martha had teased that now it was a race to see what would happen first, for them to be married, or for them to become parents._

 _"Are you ready for this though?", he'd asked, "We talked about this and we both said we could wait but- are you really ready to go through with this? I mean- having a baby?"_

 _"Are you?"_

 _"I suppose. But only if you really want to..."_

 _She hugged his arm, smiling as she kissed his face, "Good. That's all I needed to hear._ "


	11. Birthday Suit

_"Martha, you can't be serious," Dante frowned as he looked at her at the breakfast table._

 _"Look, I can't do the housekeeping job until Baby is here, they need a model for the drawing lessons at their community studio. And I need money. It's not like it's anything porno?", she shrugged, taking a sip of orange juice._

 _"I know but...you'd be living in a nudist colony for a whole month?"_

 _"I'll be back before you even know it. Heck I'm not even showing yet. I probably won't be until I'm back home. And then we can get right back to wedding planning. If you want."_

 _"But a nudist colony?"_

 _"I visited it back in my days on the road. Nice people," Martha smiled._

 _They had about six or seven months until they were destined to be parents, and they were saving as much money as they could to ensure everything would go well leading up to it, and to help make the first several weeks afterwards even easier._

 _"You're really not going to walk around naked there are you?"_

 _"Well, if I wore clothes, I'd just stand out like a naked person wouldn't I?", she smiled, kissing his head, "And hey, when you're not at work, it's only a four hour drive you could visit me on your days off if you wanted to."_

 _"That's true," he sighed, "Just don't do anything...strenuous to yourself alright?"_

 _"Of course not," she ruffled her fiance's hair, "And look on the bright side, I'll have plenty of pictures for your benefit when I get back."_

 _"What?", he looked up, the joke having sailed completely over his head._

 _"...Never mind," she smiled, "Just eat your breakfast."_

* * *

Lars slapped his hand over the entire stack of Polaroids in his lap, "Okay then," he singsonged, "We're not going to get into this, Lars ol' boy. Nope. Nope. Nope," he put them back in the box, then shoving it away.

Of all the things he learned about his mom today, that he could have done without.

* * *

 _Martha had asked Dante if he wanted to skip the wedding._

 _They hadn't had time to put any money towards one, it hadn't exactly been on their agenda since they had a baby to worry about. And somehow, the idea of having to save up a couple thousand dollars for one didn't really appeal to either of them._

 _As traditional as Dante liked to be, for once, he was on the same track of mind as Martha. The relief of knowing neither of them would be disappointed at having no wedding ceremony was pretty satisfying._

 _The night before they were planning to go to city hall, Martha had told Vidalia offhanded about her planned marriage the next day, and her ex had jumped at the chance to throw her and her fiance a reception._

 _"You really don't have to-"_

 _"Martie, I just need a chance to give the best wedding speech ever while I'm not sober, so Dante can know what my girl needs," she grinned, pinching Martha's cheek, "And how much of a freak you can be in bed."_

 _"Oh believe me, he knows," Martha smiled smugly._

 _"Well I want to make sure it gets through to him," Vidalia grinned wickedly, "How's that watermelon in your gut treating you?"_

 _"Ill tempered," she snickered, "Kicking at three in the morning, and making me want to eat junk before sunrise. I don't even like donuts."_

 _"At least it shouldn't take much longer, they just estimated a couple more weeks later, right?" Vidalia poked Martha's belly, grinning as she felt an irritable tap in response, "Sheesh, it really is a little asshole."_

* * *

 _Vidalia's backyard reception for the two of them had lasted more than four hours, the trip to city hall and back having taken about two. They'd woken up several hours earlier to get everything into order, and they wanted to take time with their breakfast, and the drive there. The actual marriage ceremony had gone so quickly, neither of them really could remember it, but the party they had afterwards was one they could certainly remember for years. Vidalia knew how to throw a good time._

 _After everyone had left, Vidalia was cleaning up pretty hastily, leaving the newlyweds to rest their tired feet on a patio bench, Martha resting her head on top of Dante's full head of curls._

 _"I'm surprised you haven't gone bald yet," she teased softly, "You're always near tearing your hair out sometimes."_

 _"I plan to keep this hair for a long time."_

 _"Yeah, good luck with that when you become a parent," she smirked, "Which should happen in several hours."_

 _"Great, thanks I-", he paused, "Wait what?"_

 _"Yeah," she smiled, "Forgot to mention I think I've been in labor all day."_

 _"WHAT?! AND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?!"_

 _"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!", Vidalia looked over, cackling madly, "OH MY GOD, YOU CRAZY WOMAN, GET THE FUCK GOING."_

 _"WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?!", Dante was screaming, addressing both his wife and her ex, panicking, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO?!"_

 _"GET DRIVING!", she laughed, "GET YOUR WIFE OFF THAT BENCH!"_

 _Dante was ready to be gallant, and lift Martha off of her feet, but she had opted with calmness to get up on her own feet, and walk for their car, and ease herself into the passenger seat. While Dante was close to screaming incoherently, and tearing out his scalp, she had pulled out her portable cassette player, earphones on as she happily listened to her music._

 _Once Dante had gotten the car moving, he nudged her shoulder to catch her attention, "You called the hospital?"_

 _"No," she smiled._

 _"What?!"_

 _"I had another birth plan."_

 _"Martha?!"_

 _"I wanted to have it at the nudist colony-"_

 _"MARTHA?! PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE JOKING?!"_

 _"You can keep your clothes on there, I already told them about you-"_

 _"MARTHA, IT'S FOUR HOURS AWAY!"_

 _"So we'd better get driving, shouldn't we?", she smiled._

 _"No! I mean- I think the hospital would be better-"_

 _"Dante, please, can't we at least try to make it there? I don't think I'm going to be delivering before then."_

 _"But why?!"_

 _"Because it would have a special meaning for me to have our baby at some place that reminds me of the free spirit I always grew up with, I want our baby to have the same-"_

 _"Martha-"_

 _"Please?", she looked at him with hope._

 _There was no compromising with this woman. Dante sighed, gripping the steering wheel tightly, "Alright, but if anything changes on the drive, I'm pulling over to the nearest hospital, understand? There's no way I'm letting you have it in the car!"_

 _"Fair enough," she smiled, slipping her headphones back on._

 _Two hours into the drive, nothing having changed, Dante then decided to ask the burning question, "How can you be so calm about this? You aren't nervous about this?"_

 _"I'm only nervous about what happens after this is all over. For now, I'm fine," she assured._

 _"But how?", he asked again, "You're not even worried?"_

 _Smiling a little wistfully, she looked out the window, "If I tell you something, you better promise not to have a heart attack and crash the car, understood?"_

 _"...okay...?"_

 _She gave a sigh through her nose, still looking out the window, "Years before I met you, when I was traveling on the road, I ended up pregnant almost a year into my traveling. The dad was a drifter who bailed out on me before I even found out, he was a fink who left me with his drugs and got me arrested for carrying them-"_

 _Dante hadn't slammed on the brakes or swerved yet. This was a good sign._

 _"Anyway, a few months later, I met this older woman, and she drove me around to protests and stuff and I traveled with her. I couldn't travel with my old group with how much they smoked and drank and how physical the protesting got, so traveling with her was a lot easier on me. "_

 _She gently rubbed her belly, "One day, her car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and she left me in the car so I could sleep. She was gone for at least three hours. I was in labor for two of those hours, and before she even came back, I had the baby in the car."_

 _"Oh my g-", Dante cut himself off, "What happened after that?"_

 _"I left the baby with the lady, since she probably wanted it more than I did," she looked at him, "I mean...I was still virtually a kid then...I wasn't ready to be a mom. But she'd been waiting for that chance for years."_

 _"Oh, Martha," Dante reached over to touch his wife's hand, the closest one being the one resting on her belly._

 _"I don't see anything more stressful than birthing a kid in the car, and I've already gone and done that," she laughed softly, "So far, this has been great. So I'm not worried..."_

 _She leaned over to kiss his face, "Unless you're fated to crash the car."_

* * *

 _Over a day later, Dante didn't know what he had been so worried about. Laramie had been in no rush to arrive, even after they'd reached their destination. The birth had taken hours and was as horrible as expected, but after an hour to settle down, both parents' thoughts were coherent once more, and they could just bask in the weary aftershock._

 _He was a small, but healthy baby. That much was evident with how much he squirmed, even while swaddled in the mint green blanket the resident doctor had provided. Dante had to be careful to hold him gently, but tightly enough that he wouldn't wriggle right out of his arms and go flying._

 _"I think he's getting annoyed with how much attention he's getting," Martha teased gently, sitting up. Even after not getting any sleep in the last 48 plus hours, she was still in good shape, if not a little tired._

 _"How are you not annoyed with not having slept?", Dante teased her._

 _"Probably all the adrenaline," she smiled, reaching over to take Laramie from her husband's arms, "Here we are," she spoke under her breath, "How are we this fine morning?", she smiled at the baby._

 _Giving an audible noise that could be translated to 'I'm irritated', the newborn twisted himself against her chest, hiding his face from the world._

 _"I understand," she laughed, "You probably don't like getting passed around like this every three minutes," she pet the small dark curls on his head with her finger, "I'm kind of cold, Dante, could you pass me my shirt?"_

 _"What? Clothes in a nudist colony?", he teased her, and handed it over, holding their son while she did so. He was still fully clothed, and standing out like an eyesore in this place._

 _Once Martha had her shirt on, she took Laramie back, and instead placed him in the bassinet nearby, deciding he probably needed the rest._

 _"Martha, before you go to sleep, at least promise me one thing."_

 _"Shoot."_

 _"We don't have anymore children until we've gotten over the shell-shock of this one, alright?"_

 _"Agreed," she smiled, shutting her eyes._

 _After a few minutes, Dante was going to ask her another question that came to his head, but he amusedly decided not to ask when he heard Martha's gentle snore. He instead turned his attention to his newborn son, who was sound asleep._

 _'Welcome to the world, little guy,' Dante spoke under his breath, 'Please go easy on us.'_

* * *

Staring at the pictures that had been snapped of him following his birth, Lars felt a strange tightness in his chest.

 _Your mom might have had a baby before you. But you were the one she worked hard to make her own._


	12. The Mother and Child Reunion

_The first thing Martha had noticed about Laramie was that he rarely cried. He'd squawk hungrily or squirm to hide his face if he was irritable, but he almost never cried. If he was startled, he'd simply stare into space with dark eyes wide as saucers. If he happened to get jostled or stumble while crawling, he'd simply look around for her attention, disoriented._

 _One of the few times he'd cried had been somewhat of his own fault. He'd crawled over to Malvina while the cat was asleep, and hugged her too tightly, and squealing in her ear, earning himself a scratch right across the face. It had done a bit more than startle him, and when he actually accepted it as pain, he began to bawl, fat tears rolling down his face, and Martha was quick to snatch him up and try to soothe him. At least he never bothered the cat after that._

 _When Martha had gotten back to work in housekeeping service, Laramie was still too young to be left at daycare, and Dante had to work long hours too. So on every day except for weekends, Martha would dress her son in his tiny sweaters, a sunhat, and whatever else the weather might need, and took him along to the houses that she'd clean on that day. For some houses, cooking would be requested. If Laramie got bored with the books or toys she provided him, she'd let him sit in the kitchen with her. Eventually, he found that more entertaining than anything else, and she took delight in gifting him his own little apron so he could be proud about helping his mother._

 _Granted, he was still much too little to do any actual cooking, but she wanted him to feel important in any way possible, whether it be cracking an egg, tossing in a tiny handful of flour, or even tasting things. The latter task ended up causing a pretty scary incident where Martha would discover her son was incredibly allergic to bell peppers. That doctor's visit had probably been enough to cause a few gray hairs._

 _On another occasion, she had been cleaning a house that just so happened to have a koi fish pond in the back yard. Martha had been almost certain Laramie was taking a nap until she heard the sound of a little child splashing through water out the window, and was initially horrified to see her child chest deep in the water, having managed to lift one of the large koi to his chest._

 _"Fishy!", he had cheered gaily to his mother once he saw her rushing over to him. Martha had to apologize to the homeowner while she swaddled her son in a third towel, and took him home early._

 _One day while shopping for new clothes in a secondhand store, Martha had been looking through a rack of shirts and sweaters for Laramie to start pre-school with, and she had glanced to make sure he was still by her side, as she had asked. Just as she had found some clothes, she heard a small crash in a nearby rack, and Laramie soon waddled over, proudly trailing a blue and yellow fish print dress behind him, unaware it was tangled in other coat hangers and clothes._

 _"Ma!", he beamed, "Fishy!"_

 _Martha was going to be upset until he pushed the dress into her hands, trying to gift it to her. She happily accepted the $4.99 'present' of a dress once she had put away the rest of the clothes he'd knocked over._

 _Those parenting books weren't kidding when they said children could disappear in less than a second._

 _Laramie was certainly a troublemaker of sorts, but it was all done out of curiosity and being completely oblivious to the fact he was causing his mother at least one freak out a week, and for his father to slowly start losing his hair. Martha began to understand how stressful it must have been for her parents to raise her. After all, Laramie was proving to be capable of holy, but adorable terror._

 _They loved him all the same._

* * *

"Lars, your father just called me, he's going to be working late tonight, just thought you should know," Martha had called out half-heartedly as she returned home from her shop that day, and once again expected no answer.

"Ok, ma," a voice called out from the kitchen, which took Martha by surprise. Wandering in, she saw her son working away over the stove top, tossing vegetables to sizzle into a pan with one hand, and stirring a whisk into a bowl with the other one.

"Lars?"

"I looked up a new stir fry recipe that looked pretty good. I had to switch out the peppers with carrots, but it should turn out pretty good if I keep the meat from getting too burnt," he explained, then pointed to a glass dish of spices, "Hand me that?"

"O-Oh, uh-", Martha got over her surprise to pick up the dish and pass it over to him, watching him pour it in the pan.

"I made enough for dad when he gets home. I think it should heat up well in the microwave. And for his sake, I can just serve dessert later tonight when he's home."

"What's for dessert?", she asked.

"Brownies," Lars spoke up immediately, "...The regular kind," he gave a smug smile.

"...oh my god," his mother wheezed, and began to laugh, realizing how much of her sense of humor Lars had sometimes.

"Unless you _want_ the other kind. Because I know how to make them!", he grinned.

"No no, we'll save that for when you're out of the house," she laughed softly, and began to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher before Lars stopped her.

"I got this," he gave a thumbs up, not taking his attention off the cooking.

She sighed, giving a smile, "Alright," and reached over to hug him, expecting him to try and squirm out of it, but instead he just allowed it. He didn't return it, but he didn't resist it.

"You seem different...is that really my Lars in there?"

"Yes, it's me," he huffed, rolling his eyes, and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. He was still too proud to admit he'd been taking her and his father for granted. Too reluctant to apologize for it. The least he could do was stay in for the night, in their presence for at least a little while. The most he'd be willing to do was save her the trouble of making dinner for a family of three and end up eating it alone.

"I wanna thank you."

"For what?", she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"...For not spreading any of your fucking craziness onto me," he teased, giving a grin as he stood back up to full height, and snickered softly as she swatted his hair.

"You're exhausting, you know that?"

"Yeah," he smirked, a little wistful, "I know."

* * *

 **(Bonus Scene)**

The next morning on his walk to work, Lars ran into Vidalia, the memories of what he'd read the day before still fresh in his head.

"Hey there, kiddo!", she smiled, "How've you been?"

"Uh...", he began, smiling awkwardly, "Great!"

"Cool, cool," she nodded, then smiled, "How's your mom been?"

 _What's that supposed to mean?!_

"She's fine, we're fine, we're allll fine," he grinned widely, hoping Vidalia wouldn't catch on that he was fully aware of what really happened between them.

"Cool," she grinned, ruffling Lars' hair a little as she walked past him, "Tell her I said hi when you get a chance!", then headed off on her way.

Lars ran to work the rest of the way, trying not to scream.


End file.
